


There is summer for you, too

by WhodWantToReadThis



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Cersei is a suspicious bitch, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by Game of Thrones, Love, No Smut Because I suck at it unfortunately, OC comes from a foreign land, OC is a princess, OC rules a kingdom, Original Character but has your name, Original House, Romance, Secret Relationship, Self-Insert, Slow Burn, Smart Is The New Sexy, Tyrion Lannister Deserves Better, Tyrion needs a hug, Tyrion needs love, Tywin is scary, palace intrigues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24179011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhodWantToReadThis/pseuds/WhodWantToReadThis
Summary: A foreign princess regent arrives in King's Landing looking for new trade routes, and Tyrion can't figure her out.
Relationships: Tyrion Lannister/Original Character(s), Tyrion Lannister/Original Female Character(s), Tyrion Lannister/Reader, Tyrion Lannister/You
Comments: 23
Kudos: 51





	1. The Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time that I post fanfiction. I am new here! I have written fanfiction before but never actually posted it anywhere. I hope it's good, and I appreciate the feedback. Here we go!

People in the brothel before lunchtime were rare, but there were some. He should know well; he had been there at all times. There is no right or wrong time for fucking. They say there is for drinking, but to him it was all the same, to be honest. What, his sister was meant to be the most respectable and refined lady in the kingdom, and drank at all times. Morning, afternoon, evening. Everyone knew. As for him, he enjoyed wine more than anyone, but that morning he had one bad hangover. He was only going to the brothel out of boredom, really. And because he knew that it was very possible that he’d have to go to war very soon, and he did not know whether those orders would arrive today or tomorrow. Or even the enemies, instead of the orders. In any case, he was not expecting to find many people, and he did not. But what he most certainly was not expecting to find was a young lady. In a brothel, there were no ladies; there were women, of all kinds, of all colours, smells, hair colours, sizes. But none of them were ladies, they were whores. This was no whore, Tyrion thought when he was passing the hall and about to enter one of his favourite chambers, in which Baelish’s girls usually lounged exercising their talents to attract men. He loved to walk around, admiring, rather than choosing, one of the women, then trying to decide which was more charming. That was the wonderful thing about the capital’s brothels, and especially Petyr Baelish’s brothel: in other places, it was about which one smelt less terrible. In this one, it was difficult to decide which was more desirable. But the lady who was standing by the door of the room where Baelish usually attended his business was not working there, nor did she look like she was looking for a job. Tyrion stopped, curious, as one of the courtesans grasped his arm.

‘Lord Tyrion, what a delightful surprise’, she said with a honeyed voice. That was Tyra; her quality was that lovely, soft voice of hers. Usually, she could bewitch you with her talk or song, but Tyrion’s eyes were fixed on the mysterious lady.

‘Tyra, who is that?’, he asked, still not moving.

‘Some foreigner… She came straight to see him. Come with me, Lord Tyrion. I have a wonderful new story to tell you.’

‘A foreigner? And what is a pretty high-born foreign lady doing with Baelish?’

‘Business, I suppose’, said Tyra, uninterested, still stroking Tyrion’s arm and hair.

‘You don’t know her name? Has her arrival been announced? She is clearly a noblewoman.’

‘I don’t know anything else, Lord Tyrion.’ Tyra was getting impatient. ‘Come hear my tale, and let me stroke yours!’ she insisted with a playful voice.

‘Perhaps another time, dear’, he answered, releasing himself from her grasp and going straight to the unknown visitor. He entered the room and saw what he expected, the reason why he had interrupted the foreigner: Petyr Baelish was sitting there, with his sly smile, looking at the lady with a pose of knowing what he was doing. He saw Tyrion walk in and stopped his business immediately:

‘Lord Tyrion’

‘My apologies for interrupting’, he replied as the woman turned to look at him. For the first time in his life, Tyrion saw a lady who did not seem disgusted or shocked at his appearance; she rather looked at him with interest, eagerness, and, was that even pleasure? Her beauty was certainly different to what you could find in the charms of the courtesans, who in that moment appeared in Tyrion’s mind as non-mysterious beings, too bare, too vulgar, in comparison with the lady in front of him, whose expression held so many secrets. She was wearing a sober travelling dress, with a high neckline and the classical robe of wide sleeves and opening overdress, of pearl white and light blue pattern. The underdress, equally sober and firmly covering her rack, was pale blue. She wore a single tear-shaped pearl hanging from each ear, announcing the cascade of light brown hair that fell over her shoulders, like an oak table run over by drops of gold, which were born in her forehead. Tyrion stared for a few seconds at the face that looked upon him so eagerly, so nicely intrigued. She was pale as new-fallen snow, and icy blue eyes decorated her marble face as two pure sapphires, as if her dress had been planned to match all her physical appearance. She looked at him in a half smile of delicate pink, but her factions were also like ice and stone, sharp, her cheekbones carved perfectly symmetrical. Tyrion held out his hand to kiss the lady’s white glove, which she allowed. ‘You must be _the_ lord Tyrion Lannister of whom I have heard so much’, said the lady. ‘No need for apologies, I am delighted to meet you. Although I suppose that if one’s a Lannister there is never a need for apologies these days.’

‘I, on the contrary do not have the pleasure of knowing you, lady…?’

‘The lady was actually leaving just now’, interrupted Littlefinger, breaking their eye contact. ‘We were merely finishing some business.’

‘Since when does Petyr Baelish have business that could involve ladies… rather, respectable ones?’, Tyrion asked, very serious. The woman giggled.

‘The scope of my business may be wider than what you know, lord Tyrion. I am, after all, an entrepreneur…’

‘…of sorts,’ completed Tyrion.

‘Lord Baelish is right, however. I was just leaving. Again, a pleasure meeting you, lord Tyrion. I trust your legendary intelligence and the context in which we have had the bad fortune to meet in will…’ she glanced at Littlefinger, ‘…advise you to be discreet about such an acquaintance.’

Tyrion looked at her raising his eyebrows.

‘We will soon be official friends’, she added quickly, while she let Baelish put a black, hooded cloak over her shoulders. She covered her head and in a second, she was gone.

Baelish was too evasive and boringly witty, so Tyrion left the brothel, not in the mood for a taste of the girls any more. This figure was a new worry, but he also felt curious towards her. In his head, he tried to compare her with any other lady he had met. He couldn’t find any to match her delicate movements and her bold look, her determinate expression that contrasted with such a fragile appearance. She was like an ice spike, thin and hard and pale and pure, yet fragile and lethal at the same time. Maybe Sansa Stark, in a few years, would be a bit like her. This was, without any doubt, a Northern beauty; but not one of those that reminded you of the stone castles and the tough speech and the rugged landscapes, but one that reminded you of the first snows, of the white wild flowers and the deer in the forest, of the fresh wind that cleared your mind and the rain that freshened it. _We will soon be official friends_. He was still thinking of that when he arrived to the palace and reached his chambers, but he did not last very long there. About an hour later, when he hadn’t even been able to doze off the mistake of an early glass of wine, Podrick came into the room.

‘Milord, they call for you. It’s the ship that arrived this morning, sir, the one who would not identify the passengers. They have solved everything now, sir. It is a visiting lady, of an unknown house, and she is coming with her entourage to the palace. Lord Varys has been sent to receive her and she is coming now’

‘Good heavens, Podrick, slow down! The ship with the white sails and a mermaid on her bow?’

‘Yes, milord.’

‘And it is a lady?’

‘Yes, milord. Some say even a princess, from somewhere in Essos. If you come down, sir.’

‘All right, all right, let’s see what this princess brings us.’

The parade that was heading to the palace from the docks was simple, but elegant. From a balcony, the Lannister family looked at the streets where the people were creating a passage of dirty human flesh, of curious faces trying to see the new foreigner. An escort of guards, in silver armour and deep blue capes, opened the parade, followed by a lady on a black horse. In its white forehead, the horse bore a silver star, although they could not see that from their balcony yet. Tyrion did not say a word, but a suspicion, and then a logical conclusion, grew in his heart, as he saw the lady who rode the horse, surrounded by silver and blue soldiers. She was also in blue, wearing a silver tiara on her oaky hair, and on her shoulder she carried a white owl. Behind her, a simple carriage provided by the Red Keep; and closing the parade there was another bunch of guards. Tyrion counted. Only ten guards. Two at the front, four at her and the carriage’s sides, and four at the back. Who was insane enough to come to King’s Landing with only ten guards? And then there was the carriage, a couple of handmaidens, and maybe a butler or a page, at most. She also must have her crew at the ship, of course, and her luggage must go in the carriage. That reduced her help to two people. And what was in the banner? What was her house sigil? He knew all of the houses, and this one was unknown. A princess from Essos, Pod had said? Could it be? And how had a princess from Essos heard of him? People stared in reverent silence. Like him, they had never seen such a lady before. And the house must be unknown to them too; they did not scream anything, nor throw rotten fruit. They just watched.

The parade arrived at last, and Joffrey and Cersei sat to receive her. Joffrey was genuinely curious; Cersei had that eternal look of boredom and scepticism in her face, as if any woman entering her kingdom was to be despised and looked upon as a rival, a potential enemy. Tyrion stood, as the Hand of the king, and watched as the doors opened. The glorious lady he had met that very morning appeared. She was serious and walked decidedly, but Tyrion could notice she did not look at him, only at Joffrey and Cersei. She was good, he thought. She was looking at the two important people in the room, and she knew that even if Joffrey was the king, Cersei was the one to negotiate anything with. She was asserting her position by not looking at the rest of the people, not even the Hand. She had also dressed for the occasion; she had changed into a similar dress, of wide sleeves, but richer fabrics, still having chosen blue and silver and white. She was now wearing a pearl necklace of three rows, that surrounded her delicate neck like pieces of shining sea foam, and her silver tiara was incrusted with blue sapphires. Her underdress fell gently over her breast, white as the skin under it, and gradually turned into light blue as it came closer to the floor. A silver belt fastened an overdress made of blue silk with a silver subtle pattern. Her hair, in dreamy waves, floated around her shoulders. Once again, Tyrion thought she was exquisite. In fact, she was it so much that few people had stopped to look at her banner, but they did now. It was definitely and unknown house: a blue sky with a white owl carrying a book and six silver stars over it. She looked at Joffrey and neither his mother nor he said a word, looking at her inquisitively. The room was in silence now. The herald announced her:

‘You are in the presence of King Joffrey of Houses Baratheon and Lannister, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Lord of Storm's End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. You are requested by him to tell his Majesty who you are, and what brings you to his land.’

A man they had not seen before in the parade, who must have travelled in the carriage, stepped forward next to her. He was tall and strong, not like the Mountain of the Hound, but slimmer and agile. He was in extraordinary good shape for his age, which they could only guess, but could not be less than forty. He was silvery blond with blue, piercing eyes, and announced the lady with no vestiges of an accent in his speech:

‘Your Majesty, this is Princess (Y/N) of House Truwen, the First of Her Name, Lady Regent of the Island of Niska, General Commander of the Ice Fleet, Captain of the Sapphire Shores, Lady of Silverstone, Beast Whisperer.’

There was a complete silence while all present ones thought and whispered about what they had just heard. Did such a place exist? Where was that island? Was this all some sort of mockery?

‘We do not have records of the Island Of Niska’, said Cersei coldly.

‘This is Queen Mother Cersei of house…’

‘I know who she is’, interrupted Lady (Y/N). ‘I presumed as much, Your Highness. We are a small kingdom and highly overlooked. Earen the Cartographer never found us and thus never included us in his maps. His work remained for posterity, and the maps that came after him, based upon his navigations, never acknowledged us. We, on the contrary, did not remain for posterity: we are north of Essos, however, and have frequent trade with Braavos.’

‘How can I believe you?’

‘I have brought a complete map for Your Highness, and a letter from the Iron Bank lords, whom you have met, vouchsafing for us.’

The transition went on, and everything appeared to go well. With Cersei, Tyrion thought, one was never too sure. She could explode like a volcano any time. But they took the richly designed map. Joffrey loved the shield that she brought, an intricate work of the finest smiths, that combined silver and gold forming a special design of a lion that was accompanied by a silver owl when you moved it under the light; a special symbol of their alliance. Cersei was evidently pleased with the fact that Lady (Y/N) had not only brought a feminine, beautiful sapphire pendant for her, but also a dagger made by the finest silversmiths in Niska. Niska was looking for new trading routes and did not longer want to trade exclusively with Braavos. Their fleet had become stronger and they could cover longer distances now, and Princess (Y/N) was curious to visit Westeros, so instead of sending an ambassador she had commanded her ship personally to King’s Landing. Blue, silver and white were the colours of the island due to the amount of sapphires and silver found there, of the finest quality. It was also a land of snow in the winter, a cold kingdom over which the princess ruled. Like in Dorne, regents were princes and princesses. Young (Y/N) had inherited the kingdom with eighteen years of age, and now, at the age of twenty-four, travelled to find improvements for her kingdom. Her ships, the Ice Fleet, were made of white wood and were known to be light and speedy, even when loaded with silver and stones, and the best regents usually learned how to sail as a part of their preparation, commanding their own ships.

The meeting, in short, was a success, and so Princess (Y/N) and her brief entourage were provided quarters to stay in. As soon as she was upstairs, unpacking with her handmaiden, she breathed.

‘That was one of the scariest things I have ever done’, she told her servant, Katsha.

‘It was only your third diplomatic trip and this time it was not Essos, your majesty, but an unknown kingdom. You did impressively.’

‘Thank you. But have you seen the Hand of the King?’

‘He is hard to see, but not to notice’, she smiled. ‘He is indeed strange.’

‘Strange? I did not mean it like that Katsha. Have you not noticed there is something about him? His manners, his look. I bet he is one interesting man. And wait until you hear his deep voice.’

That exact same voice was heard then outside the door, and one of the guards came in.

‘Your majesty, the Hand of the King wishes to speak to you.’

(Y/N) quickly waved her hand at Katsha so she would put the remaining clothes elsewhere, and they both tidied up the room in a matter of seconds. She stood in front of the door.

‘Let him in, Hartick.’

‘Princess (Y/N).’, Tyrion bowed.

‘Lord Tyrion. Care to sit?’

They headed to the gorgeous balcony and sat at the table, where a jar of wine and fresh fruit awaited. She graciously poured the wine on the two cups.

‘I am not a great consumer of wine myself,’ she said, ‘though it is always popular in noble houses such as this. I confess that my weakness lies in the ale, a specialty of our own. We have brought some caskets for the King, of our fine blond ale’, she started. She was a little nervous.

Tyrion let a slight pause, and then said very seriously:

‘There are ravens flying everywhere right now looking for the Kingdom of Niska. To The Citadel, to Braavos, maybe even to the Greyjoys, who have sailed wide and far? I hope your kingdom is indeed real and you are not some deceiver. This has most definitely, and my sister will not say it, caught us by surprise. And she does not respond well to ugly surprises’

She smiled. Why had he been so honest with her? He couldn’t figure it out. There was something about her.

‘My island is very real, Lord Tyrion. Very much so. And we do not hold ill intentions. I understand that you might be all expecting ill wishes from others. I have seen the state of your politics, though I still have much to learn. But we only want to trade, and yours is the richest family of the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘May I ask, then, why were you already in business with Petyr Baelish?’

She smiled. It was a witty smile, the smile of a smart person who recognises a cunning man of her kin.

‘We have… other products apart from silver and sapphires. Products that may interest a person with his… sort of business. We searched wide and far for the best brothels in Westeros and Essos, and Petyr Baelish gave us an advanced payment that helped very greatly our travelling costs and the care of some of our own business back in Niska.’

‘What sort of product?

‘Please Lord Tyrion, a lady ought not to talk of such things. You’d better ask Baelish what novelties there are in the establishment. Surely you were there for other business. As a customer?’

Tyrion admitted defeat on that one.

‘I believe your majesty is intelligent enough to realise the kind of person Petyr Baelish is. _A_ _lady_ perhaps should not have any relation to people like him.’

‘He is a social climber, of the filthiest kind. And he is immensely smart, which makes him much more dangerous. Is that what you are trying to elegantly say?’

‘Yes, basically.’

‘He was an instrument. And whether we like it or not, all business will at some point mean talking to him. He has subtly courted me, even. He probably thinks that the fact that I am a foreigner gives him advantage to fool me, and more possibilities of me undervaluing my rank and marrying a brothel-keeper.’ She scoffed.

Tyrion liked her. He genuinely did. And wondered what other surprises she might show during the days of the welcome festivities that Joffrey had insisted on holding for her.

‘I say, Welcome to Westeros’ he said rising his glass to her.


	2. The Welcome Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did include physical descriptions of the main character, but I trust the imagination of my readers will be able to substitute my sloppy attempt at such descriptions with their own, more relatable features.

The next couple of days were spent, for Tyrion’s taste, too much trying to investigate Princess (Y/N) and too little actually talking to her. It was customary, as Tyrion cared to inform her in case she thought she was being ignored (no one else had had the tact to do it), for the King’s Landing court to leave the guest two days to settle in and get used to the house. During that time, all of Varys’ little birds would fly away, and so did ravens; there was indeed an island called Niska, and Braavos assured they were a beautiful little culture, rich in jewels. The Braavosi themselves had never talked much about it because they benefited from the exclusivity of receiving their precious products only for themselves. Cersei chose to regard them as insignificant, but keep the alliance for its usefulness: Tywin agreed. There was talk of Princess (Y/N) being a possible good option as a wife for Joffrey. She would not have displayed herself as she had, the luxury whore of a foreign kingdom, if alliance through marriage was not on the table, said Cersei. She had said this with the usual bitterness: not because she thought of the princess as a whore, Tyrion knew, but because she was bitter of the role of women in powerful families who, like her, had to use their bodies as an asset. And a part of her envied Princess (Y/N): she did have all the power she wanted, without having had to marry anyone. Nor had she offered it. “Yet”, added Tywin. “Tyrion, you are the silver-tongued officer of this kingdom. Try to see what she thinks of this possibility. It could be profitable for us, more than Sansa Stark”

“If her people are in real need of strong alliances for the prosperity of her kingdom, maybe. But I do not think that she would like it otherwise. It would mean give up everything and subdue when she has power and richness all of her own. I see how the lioness’ motherly instincts here might regard his cub as a wonderful match, but let’s face it, our dear king Joffrey has little to be seen as desirable on his own”

Cersei tightened her lips, but did not say anything, because they all knew he was very right. Still, they had to try. Silver and sapphires meant great amounts of money, and a fleet of a hundred ships meant added forces to their army. A good relationship with Braavos, too, could be key to their threatening debt.

After this meeting, Tyrion went to the library; reading had always healed his mind, and he was coming back to it more and more, despite his still frequent searches for solace in wine and whores. He wandered among the big oak bookcases, then reached his favourite section: where stories from the past were kept, all the stories his family kept ignoring with their pride. The book he wanted to reach, however, was a little too high up for him. Sighing in annoyance, he looked around for the steps he frequently used to reach his books, but they were nowhere to be found. He then heard a light noise, muffled. It was a woman’s voice, as if she was doing some effort. He looked across the lower case: there was his wooden stool, and he managed to see a skirt standing over it. The noise was heard again. Damn it, he thought. Not again. He had caught Sir Barnett once fucking one of the maids in the library. Gods, he hated when they treated his little place of solace with such disrespect. These were the works of fine minds. He coughed loudly as a warning. The noise stopped, and he heard the light footsteps of a lady at the other side: but no man footsteps. Someone peeped out from the other side. I was Princess (Y/N).

“Lord Tyrion! What a pleasure to see you.”

She walked towards him. She was wearing her usual blue, only lighter this time, and an intricate lace design covered the sides of her neckline. But she had lower neckline this time, Tyrion noticed. Her hair was down, only held back by a string of pearls, which were also on her shoulders. In her usual fashion, she wore a silver belt. She was holding a book.

“Do forgive me”, she said. “Did I disturb you?”

“On the contrary, your majesty. I…”

“Oh please do call me only princess, if you must use a title. But I do like hearing my name from time to time.”

“Very well, Princess (Y/N).”

There was an awkward silence. She would not stop looking at him, and she looked straight in the eyes. But then again, he couldn’t help but thinking, so did he.

“I was wondering if you had seen my library stool, by any chance.”

“Of course! Forgive me. I was using it. I… am not so tall myself, you see”, she smiled. “I could not reach a book. It was a real effort.” She laughed at herself. Tyrion felt at ease. She was being friendly, familiar. They both silently compared their heights. He was about the height of her shoulder. She really was not that tall.

“Well, I understand what that feels like. May I take the liberty of asking you to reach the book for me, please?”

But the princess was already running to get the wooden steps, and took the trouble to carry the stool to Tyrion, so he could reach for the book himself.

“You may choose at ease”, she said.

“Thank you”. She was being helpful, but not condescending. She was lovely. “So,” he then said, “exploring the library, I see?”

“Oh, indeed, it is a wonderful library you’ve got here.”

“I see you are in a good mood. Is King’s Landing pleasing you?”

“Oh, very much. The gardens are prodigious, even if I have not yet explored all of them. And I was especially eager to visit the library. Books are very important in our culture. We hold our wise ones in high esteem, and we encourage poets and writers. It is another art form, is it not?

“The writing of books, princess, or the binding of them?”

“Both!”

“Well, I agree. I am a great reader myself, but alas, the library here is these days not very much used.”

“In my culture we value a man’s intelligence as much as his strength or courage. Maybe even more”

“I appreciate that.”

She smiled. But an awkward pause followed, and Tyrion seemed to be going, and she stopped him, much to his surprise.

“I… I was wondering if you could guide me”

“Guide you?”

“Yes, as in… In… Books. I am studying about Westeros and… Well… Is this book a good start?”

Tyrion looked at it. It was a volume of early epic poems on the history of Westeros. It was bound in brown leather and had beautiful golden clasps. He remembered it well. It was his; he had added it to the library in the hopes it would feed someone else’s mind, but he knew that it was possibly only him who read it. He smiled a little in delight of her choice.

“It is perfect, princess.”

“I can’t wait to start it.”

“And if you like it, you can keep it.”

She looked at him, surprised.

“But…”

“It is my own personal copy. I put it here, hoping one day someone else would appreciate it. The way Westeros is going, it does not seem like that is going to happen any time soon. I beg you take it with you, so it may also travel, and my endeavour of expanding culture will be fulfilled. My name is in it, too, so you will remember me. And anyone who reads it back in Niska will, too.”

She opened the first page to see the words “Tyrion Lannister” scribbled in a clumsy handwriting, in golden ink.

“I was a clumsy student then.”

She smiled. “I can’t accept it”

“I insist.”

She then accepted, and thanked her.

“Could you recommend me a nice place where I could read it? Maybe you could take me to the gardens, read in company? You have such nice weather here.”

“Perhaps another time. The gardens are busy in preparation of the festivities. I shall recommend you to read it on your balcony, where no one can disturb you. Including me. I apologise for interrupting your library incursion.”

“But Lord Tyrion, not at all. I enjoy your company. And you gave me a book.”

“That I did. Now if you excuse me, princess (Y/N), I must go to my duties. I hope you have a very pleasant evening of reading.”

“Of course. I thank you, Lord Tyrion.”

Tyrion walked away. He needed to be far from the princess at least until the jousts, when his family would know for sure that he had a chance to talking to her. Until then, he intended to push back the matter of marrying her off to that monster king as much as possible.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) arrived to her chamber, closed the door and laid there against it, hugging her new book. She remained looking at some fixed point until her handmaid woke her up, clicking her fingers.

“What’s wrong, your majesty?”

“Oh, Katsha.” She leaned her head back against the door and bit her lower lip. “I met Lord Tyrion at the library.”

“And?”

“And he gave me this book.”

“You were there to get a book in the first place, were you not, your majesty?”

The princess told Katsha all that had happened. She was silent for a second.

“Lord Tyrion seems… very kind,” she said at last.

“Yes. If only he smiled a little. He seems so serious. I… enjoy his company. And he seems… not to.”

“I am sure he is only a busy man, your highness. He could have no reason to dislike your company.”

“You are right. And yet…”

“Yet, your majesty?”

“Ugh, I do not know, Katsha. There is something.”

“May I ask, your majesty, for prudence?”

“I am being prudent, Katsha.”

“With all my respect, I have known your majesty since we were very young. I was ten when you were born, and have always been with you. I know you, my princess. I know when you like a man. I knew when you liked the son of Lord Starling of White Shores, and I knew when you fell out of love for him. I knew when Lord Hiddons longed for your look and how you did not like him back even if you doubted whether you should like him back.”

“This is different,” she said, not very convinced.

“I advised you against marrying the Iron Lord in Braavos and against Lord Jockard of the Black Mountains. I only want to tell you, Princess, that I will continue to watch over your fancies.”

She was smiling now, and (Y/N) allowed herself to smile, too.

“I really do think I like Lord Tyrion very much. He is so… So…”

“Intelligent. You have always liked intelligent men.”

They both laughed, and they still gossiped for a while before she could sit and read Lord Tyrion’s book. Katsha promised to keep an eye on any move that could interest her princess. And so they called Hartick to do the same, which he promised with his usual straight face, only with his secret warning look; (Y/N) and her advisor always knew how to communicate with looks. And Hartick had been her counsellor, and her father’s counsellor before her, for many years. He will take care of us, Katsha had said before she went to sleep.

* * *

There were few things, other than tormenting other people, which King Joffrey loved most in this world than jousting tournaments. These, of course, came with entertainment and gossip for the peasants, so they were always an increase in his popularity. It was probably the reason why Tywin and Cersei Lannister allowed him to organise one every few months or so. The gardens of the Red Keep were soon full of lords and ladies strolling, walking from one event to another, seducing and being seduced behind bushes and trees. Music filled the air during the day and the halls during the night. The tournament drew all sorts of business and entertainers: fire-breathers; merchants with odd jewellery, gadgets and pets; poets, singers, acrobats, of which the best were allowed up to the gardens of the Keep so the lords could nose around from one to another without mixing up with the poor. It was a time for celebration; celebration of peace, and this time, also of the arrival of Princess (Y/N) as a guest. On the first of the three days of feasts and jousting, Princess (Y/N) was to appear with the King and Queen Mother inaugurating the games. Tyrion and Tywin, of course, followed. The princess appeared in a watery green summer dress, of flowing sleeves that uncovered, for the first time since she had arrived, her white, delicate arms. Tyrion could see that under that alabaster skin her muscles where actually defined, probably from her sailing training. Her white owl accompanied her, watching everything from over her shoulder. A wreath of red silk roses lined her neckline. When she came out of the Red Keep and the sun shone on her, a pattern of red and gold flowers could be seen under her transparent dress. She wore her flowing hair down. The princess looked back at Tyrion for a second before going out, as if looking for something to reassure her. Or maybe he was being vain: after all, Hartick was walking next to him. She could be looking at him.

The jousts started, much to the enjoyment of the princess, who liked them very much. They did not do much jousting in Niska, as it was thought to be quite barbaric. They did swordfights and other sorts of competitions. The might of the riders, however, the princess confessed to King Joffrey, she found daunting and attractive. She admired their courage. Joffrey liked her for this, and Tyrion could not help but think that although she was probably telling the truth, she had also cared in particular to tell the King. Again, she thought she was good. She did suffer for the horses, however. At one point, the Hound and the Knight of Flowers were jousting. The latter fell from the horse, but the injured one was the animal. The Hound’s spear had broken into one big splinter, and it came through the horse’s chest. The beast kicked on a bloody puddle. A man tried to approach and end its suffering with a knife, but the horse was very hurt, and nervous. They tried twice and the beast managed to kick one man on the chest. Then they noticed, at the Royal Stand, that princess (Y/N) was not in her seat. She was coming down to the horse. Tyrion then remembered one of her many names given upon introduction. Beast Whisperer. He was not the only one, as the name started being murmured around the crowd and the noblemen and ladies. Princess (Y/N) raised her hands, her white arms exposed when the sleeves fell completely back. The horse fixed his eyes on her, and stopped moving so much. He slowly put his four legs on the floor and moved towards her. The princess held the horse’s head and put her forehead against his, and shushed. Then she started humming. It was not a melody in particular, but just a rhythmic humming, to which the horse started swaying.

“It is all right, now,” she said, “you feel no pain now. It will be over now,” she whispered to the animal.

To everybody’s amazement, the horse bent his knees and eventually lied down. The princess put one hand on his belly, the other stroking his back lovingly, until the horse’s breath calmed. She then looked at the man with the knife, and nodded once. She was away from the animal just in time not to get completely stained with blood when the man stabbed the beast. The joust was over, and the audience left talking of much more than just the fight. The words “Beast Whisperer” were heard everywhere as the snowy owl flew back to her shoulder. She approached the Hound.

“You fought well. My congratulations. I had never seen such power.”

“Not so well, princess. Shame about the horse. I may look like a brute, but I don’t like going around killing innocent horses.”

She nodded at him, and left.

Apart from that incident, the celebration day continued quite well. It was a lovely morning, and the princess enjoyed being showed around by King Joffrey until he had to be with other guests. The princess very happily let him go. It was also a courtesy to allow her to socialise with more people around Court. Queen Cersei then was the one to walk alongside, with a few loose remarks about the weather that sounded threatening, but nothing to worry about, according to Hartick, who followed close. No guards for anyone were needed inside the gardens of the Red Keep; and it would be a big discourtesy, so she had no escort. Finally, Tyrion joined her to walk around the gardens.

“My sister is being nice to you, I trust? She gets a little possessive with fair ladies that talk to his son for too long.”

“Not longer than what etiquette demands of us, Lord Tyrion. I see no reason why she should worry.”

“Our King is more charming to lady visitors than my sister is, that is for sure.”

“He is. He is very good.”

“Very good? How so?”

“Very good at hiding his cruelty when he has to be polite. I do hope he finds someone he wants to treat like that all the time. Not only when she is visiting.”

Tyrion scoffed. There was no away around her.

“Coincidentally, my family expressed their curiosity on your position as a possible candidate for marriage with our king.”

She stopped walking for a moment, as if she needed to stop doing anything else to try and imagine her life beside Joffrey. Hartick tried to intervene.

“Her majesty is only on a diplomatic visit concerning trade, and we have no need of giving her away as a token for…”

“Hartick! He is only the messenger! Do forgive my counsellor, Lord Tyrion, but he only thinks of my safety and welfare. And he is indeed right on this. I understand the thought but I beg you to inform your family that I have no intention of marrying… the King,” she said.

Tyrion sighed.

“Well, I am sure Hartick and I are equally relieved to know that. I dare say that I count your safety and welfare as my priority as much as he does. As the hand of the king, of course.”

“Certainly, and I appreciate that, Lord Tyrion. I hope this is no obstacle for our trading in the future.”

“Not at all, princess (Y/N). This was just a possibility that should be thought of. My father does not like loose ends.”

“I understand. Of course by my safety you mean I am safe from marrying the psychopath you have for a king.”

“Let us never admit I heard that, and assume my silence is a nod.” Tyrion could not repress a smile.

They walked for a little while in silence. The music of the party could be heard very close, and they inspected some of the artisans’ products. It was a serious matter that I inspect the local jewellery, the princess said jokingly, running her fingers over a beautiful table where an artisan showed his amber creations. She asked what it was, and Tyrion explained. The thought of having the blood of trees of so long ago turned into precious stone filled her eyes with wonder. She was stunned. Tyrion told her how sometimes an insect from long ago was trapped in the resin, and they were trapped in the precious stones forever. He also told her that the perfect tear of amber was very difficult to find. They walked past fire breathers and colourful acrobats.

“Shall we finally see the gardens properly, Lord Tyrion? I would very much like you to show me your favourite corners. I am very fond of walking.”

“If you do not mind getting a bit away from the party, princess.”

She then turned around to Hartick.

“Hartick, I am sure you would love to look up those amber stones for your wife, and I should be happy to know that you stablish relations with lords here in Westeros. Go enjoy the party, and do not miss it more for my sake, please.”

This was clearly an order to be left alone, and Hartick could not refuse it, even if he did not exactly adore the idea of leaving her alone. She then let her owl jump to her hand.

“You must be exhausted, my dear,” she whispered. “Want to go have a rest? It is maybe to sunny for you.”

The white bird ululated and playfully bit her finger, then stroked her cheek with its forehead. She then raised her hand and Tyrion saw the owl fly to the balconies.

“She’ll know the way to my room,” she explained. They continued their walk.

“What you did back there with horse… and this owl you can… control. Is this why they call you beast whisperer?”

“Owls are very intelligent creatures. And horses, they are intuitive. I do not control animals, but I certainly have a special understanding with them. I have had it since I was very young. When I went on my first hunt with my father, a bear attacked him. I raised my arms and told him not to kill the king of the land, for he was my father and I was too young to rule the bear’s homeland. The bear turned back.”

“Some would call it witchcraft.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Some would. Do you?”

“We have had the Targaryens rule us for hundreds of years, and they were dragon whisperers. No, I don’t.”

After a pause, she told him she was enjoying the book very much, and thanked him again. They talked for at least three quarters of an hour, roaming around the garden, seeing all the fountains, him telling her who built them and what they meant, commenting on the book she was reading, reflecting upon life and history. They finally sat in a stone bench, closer to the party, so they could be seen. More time alone would be indecorous. They both knew it, but none of them said it. Perhaps because she had started to feel there could be a reason for it to be really indecorous. When they sat, (Y/N) started admiring the roses. She wanted some seeds to bring to Niska, for her private palace garden. They did not have them in her kingdom. Tyrion sighed deeply.

“What is it? You seemed worried.”

“My duties are heavy, I am always worried for the Seven Kingdoms.”

“Indeed you are. I do not think I have ever seen you smile, Lord Tyrion. I believe the King should have more reason to be worried, for his duties are heavier and bigger, and yet he knows how to enjoy a party. Maybe you should learn to relax.”

“Oh, I do know how to relax, princess (Y/N), as well as you know sarcasm, I see” he replied, and she blushed. “I have made you blush. Perhaps you have heard some accounts. I have, after all, got a reputation. I apologise for what you may have heard” He sighed again. “In any case, my smile is not a pretty one, your majesty. No one likes to see the Imp smile.”

“I build my own judgements, and to me, you have been no Imp, no hideous-smiled blackguard, and no… no… man with bad reputation.”

Seeing a strong, determined woman blush and doubt like that made Tyrion smile. He could not help it.

“I am glad to blush and be blunt if that makes you smile, Lord Tyrion. I was starting to believe you did not enjoy my company.”

“You would be most wrong. It is not that easy to find wholesome, intelligent conversers around here. You will find that soon enough.”

“As long as I can count on you,” she smiled. A pause continued, and Tyrion looked at the trees and the party close by. “Is this why you sigh and remain serious? No pleasant conversations to enjoy after your heavy duties?”

“Among other things. And… perhaps because I have not done this in quite a long time, and Master Pycelle will kill me if he finds out.”

“What? Why?”

Tyrion turned and cut a rose from the bush behind them. He offered to the princess. He half-smiled.

“Well, there,” she smiled, “there is your smile. I wanted it more than I wanted a rose.”

“You are very welcome.”

“Thank you. I will not tell anyone.”

There was a silence while she smelled the rose.

“We should get going, I believe,” he said suddenly, “we need to get changed for dinner. If there is one thing King’s Landing knows how to do, it is throwing a royal banquet. You shall see!”

Tyrion went to his room, not thinking of anything in particular, save the strange feeling inside him. What was it? There was something different, and he could not tell whether it was in him or around him. Some strange feeling, as if two heartbeats fed his body at a time, instead of one. As if he was, with every step he took, he was conscious of something else other than himself. He shook these feelings off while he got dressed. They would not hit them until later.

In her chambers, princess (Y/N) was floating.

“Oh Gods, do I like him,” she sighed, “I cannot help myself, Katsha, I cannot. Do not tell Hartick, on my life. But he is so… so…”

“Short,” said Katsha laughing.

“Easy joke, girl. I expected more from you, I should think.”

“Pardon, your majesty.”

“He is so intelligent. Put this rose in water, quick. I am wearing it tonight at the feast.”

As it was customary, the King awaited her guest standing next to his place, and consequently, so did everyone else, until the guest of honour arrived and should take her place. Before the doors of the hall, Princess (Y/N) breathed deeply.

“Right, girl,” she told to herself, “you are doing it very well. Just don’t forget your diplomatic duties. Do not. You are good at this.”

“Even if you did not expect to fall for one of the relatives of the foreign king,” said a mocking, scolding voice in her head. Gods, she prayed that Tyrion would be next to her. She knew the basic part: she would sit to the King’s right, and his mother, queen Cersei, would sit to his left. But who would be to her right? Either Tyrion, or Tywin. And she was dead scared of the latter. “It’s all right,” she told herself, “you can do this, no matter who it is.” Then, she nodded so they’d open the doors. The court was waiting.


	3. The Ball

It was then when it hit Tyrion that Princess (Y/N) was the most glorious creature he had ever seen. She was not a beautiful lady, as he had admitted a few days ago. She was not an exquisite beauty. She was not a delicate flower nor a shiny blade of ice. She was all of it together. He looked at her come into the room, so confident, so radiant. Much like his sister stuck to red and gold, she was asserting her position with her blues and silver. She was wearing a blue, elegant evening gown, with a texture and mixture of colours that mimicked a night sky, and the water of the oceans, all at once. She wore her usual silver belt, this time made of silver snowflakes, and an elegant gold and pearl necklace over her neck, left uncovered by the rigid structure of her boat-shaped neckline. Her hair was half up in a braided do, but most importantly, it was decorated with a single red rose; the one he had given her in the garden. Princess (Y/N) walked confidently, hiding the fact that her hands were shaking, and sat on her seat. Tyrion lamented not being able to say anything to her. For the first time, he felt truly compelled to talk to her, approach her, comfort her, give her the smile she wanted, and thanking her for wearing his rose. They dined, entertained by some buffoons, some of them of dubious taste, but funny, in a way. The princess managed to laugh at the jokes that King Joffrey liked, when he or his family were looking, and remain calm for the rest of them, knowing that they were really offending most of the present noblemen, and Lady Sansa among them. Master Pycelle, of course, asked her about the rose; she replied that she had been interested in the seeds, and one of the gardeners had let her take one. No, she could not remember what he looked like, sorry. Tywin asked her then:

“My son gave you that rose, did he not?”

“Lord Tyrion took the liberty of offering me one after hearing of my interest for roses.”

“I see.”

“Wonderful diplomat he is,” she continued. “Your son. Silver tongue if there ever was any. He also offered me something else, Lord Tywin. Your grandson’s hand. I hope that you are now informed that this shall not be the case, I am afraid.”

“So I heard, your majesty. I do not think it could interfere with our business nonetheless.”

“Not at all.”

“And you are not offended with the offer.”

“On the contrary, my lord. I am very flattered to be considered a worthy bride to your fair king, and shall hope that our commercial transactions follow their course.”

Tywin was satisfied with this answer, and the feast went on. (Y/N) breathed. The old lion seemed to be fooled. He thought Tyrion’s tasks had been going on as a diplomat. Hence, the rose. Buttering her up, nothing else. Keep your mind cold as the ice bears’ paws, (Y/N) thought. She was still thinking of the beautiful ice bears back at home when she realised they were starting to play happier music. King Joffrey stood up. Oh, no. In front of everyone, he asked her for the first dance. Of course: it was politeness. She, naturally, accepted after a quick glance to Hartick. Gods, this family scared her. But they must never know. Never.

She stood up and was taken swiftly to the centre of the hall. Joffrey was, in fact, a surprisingly good dancer; she even enjoyed dancing with him. Step by step, she did it all. She had learned well the dances of the Seven Kingdoms, at least the basic ones. Princess (Y/N) smiled to the king, who smiled back. This was going well: the king seemed to like her enough. Not too much, but enough. It was perfect. The dances went on for a while, and Joffrey danced then with his mother, and with Lady Sansa; dances that (Y/N) did with Tywin and then, Sir Jamie. None of the Lannisters were bad dancers; their famous good breeding did show its results. Hartick danced with Lady Sansa one time, and other members of the Court joined in. (Y/N) finally excused herself to go back and sit at the table and drink a little more; she was having a little bit of fun, even if it was fun with lions. She also needed refreshment. She heard the king call for a quadrille behind her. He wanted to do it as a family, and everyone sensed in his voice that evil tingling.

“Come on,” he said, “my mother can dance with Uncle Jamie while I dance with my future bride.”

No one dared even let a tiny laugh at the observation. Everyone knew what Uncle Jamie did with Mother; much more than dancing as a couple.

“My grandfather shall dance with Lady Olenna. We do need a senior couple to lead the dance, and she is as great a lady as my grandfather is a lord, I shall say. And I am the king!” He looked around. “But,” his evil tingling increased, “a quadrille is no such thing without four couples. All my family is dancing except… my uncle Tyrion.”

Tyrion tried to excuse himself. He could not contradict the king as he usually did, not in public.

“Ah, we may have to divide Uncle Jamie and Mother after all. No one will dance with my uncle Tyrion, he leaves us one couple _short_!”

Some people laughed nervously, some tried to cover it a little with a cough. Tywin and Cersei, however, followed the joke laughing unashamedly. He was the king after all, so the rest followed. (Y/N) stood up, and was proud and firm as her voice resonated in the hall:

“I will dance with Lord Tyrion, if he will have me.”

There was a silence. A kindness, it was, everyone thought. How kind of the guest. She means to be nice to everyone. So everyone took it. Tywin and Olenna looked at each other briefly. They were not friends, but they knew how to see through things. They had the experience, and they knew the other one was the one that would understand. They both maybe suspected a tiny bit.

“Well, uncle,” Joffrey said, “you do not have excuses now, I would say.”

Tyrion stood up slowly, and took his place in the dancing party. He looked at her.

“I am afraid I am not a pleasant dancing partner, for obvious reasons, your majesty.”

“Do you know the dance?”

“Of course. I learned all of them, and very well.”

“Then you will be perfect. I will need you to teach me”

The dance started, peacefully. To the princess, it was intuitive to follow the steps, and lord Tyrion was patient with her mistakes. He thought the same of her; he thought she was being patient with him. The Imp, the Half-man, the Dwarf, the Evil Monkey; all the names came back to his head, but were interrupted by the princess’ smile upon looking at him. However, she was serious when she had to turn with the other men in the dance. All his insecurity crept in.

“Had you ever danced with so short a man, your majesty?” asked Joffrey maliciously.

She kept a straight face; Tyrion was not even bothered, and ignored the comment.

“Indeed not, King Joffrey. I had never seen anyone with this… difference in my kingdom or in Braavos.”

Joffrey scoffed, and (Y/N) gave him half a smile. All of Tyrion’s insecurities crept in, all the names resonant in his head. The princess turned to him again, and smiled to him once more. Then it struck him. She was only curious about him. She was laughing at him; had talked to him because he was a diplomat, but was teasing him because she must think he is a strange creature. This is why she had offered to dance with him; she pitied him, she was laughing at him at this very moment. Possibly, she meant no harm: but to her he must be nothing but a pet, with which to have fun.

The dance was over, and Tyrion bowed before moving quickly to his seat, while everyone else was still clapping. He poured himself another glass of wine. (Y/N) was about to follow him, but Joffrey was in a merry mood: he wanted a big party, and for once, he was obliging with all the typical rules for welcome parties. The people from the court were having fun; they wanted more dancing and music.

“Before everyone starts dancing our dances again,” Joffrey said, “I pray our distinguished guest Princess (Y/N) to show us a dance from the kingdom of Niska?”

Everyone enthusiastically supported the King’s idea, and silence fell, while they stared at the princess, in the middle of the hall.

“How many dancers will you need?” asked Joffrey.

“Well…” (Y/N) looked at Tyrion, who was concentrating in pouring himself some more wine. Cersei and Tywin returned to her table, but Joffrey stood next to her, eager to learn, while Sansa sneaked away to a corner. “I would only need one, really” Joffrey laughed and offered himself, spreading his arms. Whispers and comments of surprise floated around the room. How intimate and daring, they must have thought. Only two people dancing. “Of course I invite everyone to join once I teach you. It is awfully easy, once you get used to the rhythm.”

The princess came close to the musicians and explained. They nodded.

“Hartick is a wonderful musician, and I am sure he will not mind joining to lead the musicians with his violin.”

Hartick’s violin was fetched, and the princess started explaining.

“Our main dance in Niska,” she said with a loud and clear voice as she moved swiftly around the dancing area, “is called the waltz. It is a most intimate, while respectable dance between man and woman. It must be so swift,” she added while she approached the candelabra on the table, “that it is said to achieve perfection if the two dancers are able to waltz with a candle in their hands, without blowing out the flame.” While saying this she got one of the candles in the candelabra and held it in her hand, then approaching to king Joffrey. She curtseyed. He bowed. Then everyone gasped a little bit when she held Joffrey’s right hand and placed it around her waist, his palm on her lower back. With her right hand she held his left one, raised a little bit over their shoulders and spread to the side, holding the candle both at the same time as two statues. Her free hand, the left one, she placed on his shoulder. Some of the older ladies scoffed. They were face to face!

“Now very slowly, at first, and then as the rhythm will tell us to, we turn and turn: three steps, one, two, three, one, two, three….”

Joffrey’s talent for dancing was clear, as he followed her lead very easily as soon as Hartick started the first chords. The other musicians slowly got the hang of it. When the piece was over, princess (Y/N) proudly showed the rest of the court the intact candle, still lit, and asked for an applause for such gracious dancer as was king Joffrey. He was delighted. “Oh, again, again! He said, delighted. “Let me teach somebody else, now, princess.” She happily consented, and Joffrey asked another lady. Princess (Y/N) remained at one of the edges: as a lady, she could not ask a man to dance, but as a queen, no one dared ask her. Considering that she was teaching the dance, she decided to spread her arm, hoping that Tyrion would join, but he did not seem to be in the mood any more. She asked if anyone should like to learn, too, and sir Loras Tyrrel, always gallant, asked her to dance. She gladly took his hand, and some young couples started to join in the novelty, timidly at first, then all laughing and excited. The ladies’ skirts, to everyone’s delight, opened like blooming flowers at each turn, and the gentlemen could hardly believe they were allowed to touch their ladies’ waists. They turned and turned: and Princess (Y/N) felt her popularity in Westeros rise, while Hartick gladly went on playing the waltz. She was having real fun indeed, and for a few seconds she was able to forget that, rather than turning around in a ballroom, she was swimming inside a shark tank.

When the dance was over, she retreated to one of the balconies, which offered a beautiful view of the sea. She could not help but feel butterflies in her stomach when she heard footsteps, and saw from the corner of her eye that it was Lord Tyrion approaching. He stood next to her, also looking at the sea. Of course he always looked serious; but this time he looked even more serious.

“Did you not like my waltz, Lord Tyrion?”

“It was very elegant.”

“Perhaps you could learn next time, too. I would very much like to try it with you.”

He sighed. It was the first time, for many years, that he felt hurt over being seen as a mere funny dwarf.

“Your majesty, I very much enjoy the pleasure of your company and I am glad you enjoy mine.”

There was a long pause. She did not know what to say, what he was saying; he did not know how to continue.

“However, I am not… I am not a pet with whom you may play and use for dancing as if it was a fun game. As much as… my family seems to accept this scheme, I consider myself a diplomat at the moment and I am working towards a good relationship between our kingdoms. Perhaps it is better that for now on I shall negotiate with Lord Hartick.”

The princess could see that he was truly hurt, but her delay in replying caused him to think that he had been right in his impressions, and she was ashamed of her conduct, or maybe she was just being smug as Cersei; he started to walk back to the ball.

“Lord Tyrion,” she called, almost a cry for mercy. Hope. “Wait, I beg you.”

He turned around.

“I have never… I followed the king’s lead of course, but certainly you cannot blame me for giving him half a smile for his jokes. Did I not ask to dance with you when Joffrey was trying to mock you? It was in good faith, my lord, I can assure you. A highly intelligent man as you can certainly see that our talks were those of two people with… a bond, I dare say.”

“Princess…”

“Such insecurity in such a privileged mind. How they must have mistreated you. I am not from Westeros, Lord Tyrion, and you will not see me belittling you as they do. Never.”

Tyrion walked back towards her. The sky was full of stars, and the muffled noise of the dances lingered in the air.

“My apologies, princess. I have indeed let my insecurities take the best of me. You call me an intelligent man, and yet here I am, behaving like a fool.”

“You do agree with me in… that I consider us… friends. Are we not good friends, Lord Tyrion?” There was hope, but also something else in her voice. There was a tingling little pain he hardly noticed.

“Oh, princess (Y/N), of course we are. In fact,” he remembered one thing, and put his hand in his pocket. “I have something for you. A little nothing, a friend’s gift. I was going to give it to you, but then I went stupidly cross.”

“But Lord Tyrion, the crown is already making such honours. And you gave me your book.”

“Well, the crown may do as it pleases. This is from me, and not something you must leave at a library to be read, like the book.” He produced a beautiful oval of amber with a golden chain. She gasped. “You were amazed by our amber, so I found the most perfect piece I could find. This is a rare amber, polished finely, it will change is depth of colour depending on the sunlight.”

“Lord Tyrion,” she bit her lip, smiling, and he thought she looked lovely. “I am speechless.”

“There is no need to say anything. A token of our friendship.”

“Oh please will you help me put it on?”

“I am afraid that would not be wise, princess. People would notice, and we do not want any meaningless gossip. Do we?”

She shook her head.

“It would be meaningless indeed… and could harm our business.”

“Of course.”

“Out of a little nothing.”

“Nothing.”

“Indeed.” She then did something she had been avoiding since she had first met Tyrion, for fear of appearing condescending. But this time she did not feel it so. She bent her knees so as to lower her head, and now she was shorter than he was, a normal lady in front of a taller lord. Their faces were now closer to each other’s. She put her hand in his and raised it a little, up to her heart. “Thank you.”

He looked into her eyes and raised her hand to his lips, kissing it softly. She then let it go, and they looked into each other’s eyes a little bit longer, until Hartick’s voice was heard.

“Madam? Madam, I think is time to rest now. The king is about to withdraw.”

They immediately separated, and she clutched the pendant in her hand until she could hide it in her corset. Then, they all retired to their chambers to sleep.


	4. The Dragon Pit

The next day was gloriously sunny, and the jousts were resumed. At ten in the morning, the royal seats were ready in front of a pit close to the wall. Today, it was not jousting, strictly speaking; it was Joffrey’s favourite game. Body combats between knights took place, and the ones that lost were thrown to the pit without mercy, especially those unfortunate enough to fight and lose against the Hound. However, it was a compulsory activity if you did not want to fall on the King’s bad side, and so there they all were. Princess (Y/N) had to enter with the King, so she was the first one, with him, to be there. The temperature was warm but mild, and it would have been a wonderful day, the princess thought, to walk along the city wall next to the sea. She would do it, maybe later, if she could find the time. She breathed deeply the sea breeze that caressed her hair, and her breast swelled, making the amber pendant shine in the sunlight. Joffrey, shameless observer, noticed.

“You acquired one of the typical amber pendants, I see.”

“Yes, king Joffrey. I found them very beautiful and becoming.”

“I am glad.”

She bowed, and looked around anxiously. Was Tyrion coming? She dared not ask.

“Looking for anyone, princess (Y/N)?”

“Oh I was just wondering whether we will be joined by the rest of your family, your majesty. You all make such good company.”

“My grandfather is with Lord Hartick, doing business, as you know. But my mother will join us, and we have my uncle for protection, as usual.”

“Of course.” She turned to Jaime Lannister, “Sir Jaime, a pleasure and a reassurance to have you here.” He bowed: “Your majesty.”

She dared not ask further. In this pause of their conversation, they were joined by some ladies of the court, including Lady Sansa. Joffrey looked back slyly and talked to (Y/N) loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Allow me to say, princess (Y/N), that the King’s Landing fashion agrees with you. You look splendid. Maybe you will get used to it at some point.”

(Y/N) recognised Lady Sansa and was aware that the compliment was only meant to hurt and worry the young girl. If her engagement to the king was endangered by the presence of another woman, her life might lose value. Not that she cared that much at this point; but it was distressing to have an uncertain future. For the first time in her visit, (Y/N) unleashed her usual sass in public:

“Thank you, your majesty, you look very handsome yourself. But, splendid! I must say, King Joffrey, if you use that word again I shall never wear the King’s Landing fashion again. I do not think I have ever heard that word used by gentlemen but on broodmares.”

Most ladies repressed a laugh, and thankfully the King did not notice.

“You understood what I meant,” he answered curtly. The fight was going to start anyway, and he was losing interest in compliments.

(Y/N) wished Lord Tyrion had seen that. In fact, she wished Lord Tyrion would arrive already. She had, in hopes of flattering their hosts, dressed in full King’s Landing fashion; but mostly she had done it to please Lord Tyrion, even if she did not know if he appreciated this fashion at all. At least it would put her to scale in the beauty canons he was used to, and she hoped that would work. The Queen Mother then arrived, with a cold greeting and an empty compliment on how she was happy that the local models she had asked recommendations on had pleased her, and how she looked beautiful. She returned the compliment and felt her whole body get tenser when she sat with them. Joffrey directed his mother’s attention towards the amber pendant, and she could have sworn Cersei could see her heart beating faster under it. But she just commented on how pleasing it was that they were finding new products that they could be interested in trading with. She was alone with the lions. But at least she looked like one of them; her new style gave her confidence, like a disguise to infiltrate among enemies. She was wearing a deep red underdress, with quite the neckline, for the summer was hot. She felt alluring in that neckline. Her traditional parents would have never allowed it at the Niska court. In the style of the capital, she wore a semi-open robe in a rich white silk with a green, vegetal pattern. A golden belt fastened it. She had put her hair up in a complicated crown bun and left two long locks of hair slide down her shoulders. She was wearing golden earrings to match the belt and the most important part of her outfit: the amber pendant. She clasped her hands together and watched the first fight, trying not to flinch at each blow of the swords. She was herself trained in combat; but these were crude combats, because the knights knew how the king liked them. Finally, Tyrion appeared.

“Your majesty, my apologies. Urgent state matters required my attention for longer than I expected.”

“You missed the first fight,” said Joffrey, annoyed. “I am starting to think you did not want to accompany your king at all in these celebrations.”

“Your majesty, I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Tyrion replied in a merry, complying tone while he bowed and took his seat next to princess (Y/N).

Joffrey was sensitive to flattery, but Cersei wasn’t, and she noticed Tyrion’s good mood and disposition. He hadn’t even been sarcastic. He had meant it. She kept her eyes open and observed Tyrion. He must have been up to something: he never had this attitude with Joffrey.

“Princess (Y/N), you look wonderful, as our King, no doubt, will already have observed. The local fashion agrees with your complexion.” He kept looking at the amber pendant, but said nothing of it. He was being civil, diplomatic, as usual, thought Cersei watching them closely. At first, she thought that Tyrion was just being the perverted little beast he was for her, and was impudently staring at her breasts; but then she noticed that the princess was not uncomfortable or annoyed, and she glanced down, too, when replying that the King had indeed kindly appreciated her choice, as had his sister. They both looked back at her, like a couple of kids pretending to be good so as to get an allowance from their mother. She smiled back.

“Have you noticed, Lord Tyrion, that our guest is also wearing one of the famed ambers of the city? An interesting product for the trading treaty.”

Tyrion pretended to notice the pendant for the first time and agreed, but Cersei saw it; it was the same glance direction than before. There was something they had intentionally not talked about, but both recognised. If he had presented it to her as part of diplomatic activities, he would have mentioned it then and there. But he did not. She could see through people: their behaviours around others. She was the best on that area, and she could see they had a secret in common, and that it involved the pendant.

When the fight was coming to an end, Joffrey jumped off his seat, excited.

“To the fire-eaters!” he exclaimed.

“Um… your majesty,” Tyrion said.

“What?”

He whispered to the King.

“Princess (Y/N) had expressed the wish to visit Dragonpit.”

“Oh. Why don’t you go with her, Uncle? Princess (Y/N), I am sure you will excuse me when you know how terrible I have always been at history. I am more fit for battle, you see. My uncle, on the other hand, spends his life among books. What he lacks in height, he makes up for it in boring explanations. But he will certainly explain the history of the decadence of the Targaryen, and how my family defeated them.”

“Your majesty, I appreciate you putting me in so capable hands. We will be back very soon and join you in the fire-breathers show. I shall not miss it.”

“Until then.”

Joffrey left, happy to be free of entertaining the guest. Tyrion and the princess were left alone. They got everything ready, then set off. A palanquin was prepared for them, and when it arrived, the princess moved towards it; however, Tyrion stopped her and went to talk to the carriers. After discussing with them something in whispers for a while, he came back to her.

“What is it?”

“Uh, I am afraid we might have to go by horse, your majesty.”

“But is that not unsafe?”

“A little bit. We have to cross all of flea bottom to get there.”

“But my guards are with Lord Hartick, or at least most of them. I think the rest are free now, but who knows where they are! Can’t we take any palace guards?”

“We have Bronn.”

“But what on Earth is wrong with the palanquin?”

Tyrion fell silent for a moment.

“Well, there is only one of them.”

“And?”

“Well, you surely must be aware that we could not travel together on the palanquin. It would have to be one for you and your handmaid, one for me, and Bronn would ride with us.”

“For… propriety reasons, I gather.”

“Indeed.”

“But we only have this one”

“Yes. I, personally, prefer the palanquin to move around inside the city with some privacy, and riding is never too comfortable for me, for obvious reasons. It would if I exercised and worked more on it, but I don’t. Alas, we cannot do much more. The other palanquin is taken, as Lady Sansa has gone to the forest to pray. And I really do not wish to disturb her further.”

“No, of course not.”

“You do not mind riding, then?”

“Well… I mean, no. Both ladies and gentlemen are expert riders in Niska. We learn it since childhood. In fact, I like riding very much. And so does Katsha.”

The handmaid bowed her head.

“You look disappointed. It will not take us much longer than expected to get there.”

“Of course. It’s just… It’s just I was excited about using the palanquin, that is all.” She smiled, blushing. “A childish wish. We don’t have these transportations in Niska. Can we not go together in it? Katsha will safely ride with Bronn behind us, won’t you Katsha?”

“I have no problem, your majesty.”

“But… Allow me to insist, your majesty, it may not be… proper.”

“Do you not feel comfortable with the idea, Lord Tyrion?”

Bronn tried to repress a laugh, and looked at the floor, smiling.

“No, I… I mean, it is for your sake that we do this. Being a maiden… It is usually the custom to travel separately, and chaperoned. The parents always insist on it and…”

“Oh, but we have no parents here, do we, Lord Tyrion? It is just you and me. And we are both responsible, adult, well-bred people who can behave with each other. Besides, no one would know, since no one will see us, will they?”

“People might talk, when they see one palanquin setting off and the people riding behind.”

But the princess was as excited as a young girl doing some mischief. “Oh, never mind that! Just tell them we have strange customs in my kingdom. That women are more free, that the queen may have the privilege of being alone with anyone if she wishes. I am, after all, a queen.”

Tyrion was defeated, and without knowing what to think, he made a gesture towards the palanquin, and she smiled, excited. She ran towards it and stopped before going in, turning to Bronn:

“Please take good care of Katsha, Bronn. Niskan maids are more open-minded than the ones in Westeros, but pray be kind to her.”

“I promise to be good, madam”, Bronn answered. The princess did not see it, but Tyrion gave Bronn a warning look before going in.

When he did, the princess was still getting herself comfortable, sitting and rearranging her dress to keep her feet or legs from being seen. It might be uncomfortable enough for Tyrion to be here trapped with me, she thought. She looked at him when he was leaning very close to her, in the process of sitting down himself. His eyes locked.

“This is exciting,” she said, “it looks so comfortable!”

“And possibly very nice for the porters just this once. We are both lighter than to what they are used to.”

“Indeed, they should be very well paid.”

“I don’t think anything can pay having to carry a fat lord.”

They both laughed.

“And we are being naughty, as well. What a cultural day I am having! Watching knight fights in King’s Landing fashion, travelling in a palanquin, visiting Dragonpit… and being naughty with a Westerosi gentleman.”

She added this in jest, but a tiny glistening in her eyes did not escape Tyrion. He gave her a sad, half smile. She was used to him being serious by now, so she said nothing about it. In the depth of his heart, Tyrion was touched that she considered him a gentleman. No other lady in the kingdom did, excepting the whores, and they did only because of his money. But she looked at him so purely, and he thought that maybe this was how Jaime felt while growing up, how every handsome gentleman did, like regular men felt when they found someone special to flirt with, or court. They were so close, and the place was so intimate. He thought it through again. Yes, she was someone special. He was falling for her irremediably, and he calculated (he always tried to calculate everything when it came to social relations. He was too clever and had suffered too much by now) that by the end of the day he would be unable to live without her. And this time, he could not escape as in the library. So he decided to flirt on.

“Are Niskan gentlemen not naughty?”

“Well, some of them are, some of them aren’t,” she said, in an adorable attempt, Tyrion thought, of sounding experienced, “there are rascals everywhere, I suppose. Once, when I was still the princess heiress, the son of Lord Jockard tried to reach too far with his hands.”

“Enough to lose them, around here.”

“Oh, I never told my father, just in case. I was understanding, in the bottom of my heart. We were very young, and he could not help himself. But I did slap him as hard as I could, and he bore the mark in his face for two days!”

He laughed with her.

“And yet, you have told Bronn that Niskan maids are more open-minded.”

She smiled slyly, and looked away, blushing a little bit.

“In Niska, we appreciate experience in a handmaid. While high-born ladies must preserve their… innocence before they get married, we do not believe it useful or sustainable to create a circle of ignorant women. Maids are appreciated if they are, in fact, not maids. Their position is always going to be one of counselling, so we might as well have a woman who knows what is it like to be with a man, to love, to lose, to play the game.”

Tyrion raised his eyebrows.

“Well then Katsha might be a good converser for Bronn. If she surprises him enough he might even be speechless for a while.”

“Oh, she definitely will. She has good comebacks, trust me.”

“So Katsha is… one of those women?”

“They are not former prostitutes or anything like that. But they do achieve a certain life experience. They learn all the tricks, they are clever and sly. They know how to preserve their ladies’ dignity, but also how to help them meet their lovers to talk at night. They know everything women need, usually. All the tricks. And this way, ladies are also… well, good wives, once married.”

Tyrion raised his eyebrows again.

“Good wives? Don’t Septs teach you all that?”

“Not only domestic duties, but how to please their husbands. So they are not useless in bed.”

She had gathered the courage to say it to his face, and the information hit Tyrion like a punch. She looked down, a little flustered, and he tried very hard not to think of her in bed, learning all these “tricks”.

“I see.” He decided to change the topic.

They went on talking about Tyrion’s book, and how much she liked it. They enjoyed the conversation very much. (Y/N) did not want it to end: the muffled sound of the street outside, the protection of the soft curtains, the filtered light over them, having him so close to her. But the trip did end, and Tyrion came out first.

“Allow me,” he said, and she said nothing, since she realised she had no clue of the palanquin etiquette. It seemed fair that he came out first, like in a carriage.

She came out, and Tyrion’s hand was waiting to help her up. She smiled at him and felt how a thousand butterflies formed a whirlwind in her stomach.

“One of the few times I can offer my hand to help a lady off a vehicle,” he said.

She laughed and they both walked around the hill, followed by Bronn and Katsha, now off their horses, a few steps behind. Dragonpit was magnificent. It was before she entered, and it was even more amazing when she saw it from the inside.

“Katsha, are you seeing this?” she asked, her eyes wide open.

“It is wonderful,” said Katsha.

They walked around it, speechless for a few minutes.

“It makes me so sad,” said the princess. “It is like a giant birdcage. To think of such wonderful creatures, such wild, intelligent creatures, trapped in here…”

“The Targaryen tried to make it with as much space as possible, as you can see,” Tyrion said. “But indeed, dragons are not made to be trapped. They slowly became smaller and weaker, until they disappeared from Westeros.”

“Are there any left? Any of the dragons from Valyria. Are there wild dragons in Essos?”

“If you do not know, your majesty, how shall we know?”

She looked at him directly in the eyes. “So there is not one single dragon alive anymore?”

He held her look. Was she trying to take it out of him? Was this a measuring? They might have heard about the Targaryen girl with the possible dragons. But he could not give away such information easily.

“Not that we know of.”

She sighed, looking at the blue sky.

“What a shame, is it not? How I would have loved to see one crossing the sky. I have always loved dragons in stories, since I was little. I drew them constantly. I still do, when I am idle.”

“I always liked dragons too,” said Tyrion, approaching her.

“Why don’t I show you the back of the pit, Katsha? It has some nice carvings, you might like it,” said Bronn suddenly.

“I should like to see it very much,” replied Katsha, but leaving slowlier than Bronn, keeping an eye on Tyrion. However, she agreed with Bronn that the couple could use some time alone.

“Fine couple, those two. Either they benefit the kingdom so much that the Queen is happy to lose him, or they start a war.” He expected Katsha to be scandalised by his light speech, but she was ready. They had not talked too much during the trip, and Bronn thought she was a shy maid.

“You think he is going to do something about it? Because she can’t be here forever, waiting for him to take a step.”

Bronn liked her straightforwardness.

“Well, he has been mistreated, my lord. After all you don’t get much fine treatment from the so-called fine ladies, if you get any at all, when you’re a dwarf and everybody calls you the Imp, or the Evil Monkey. She’s an odd one, your lady, and he might be overwhelmed.”

“My lady has always liked the intelligent ones, over appearance.”

“Not that it is a lack of practice, mind you. She’ll find a man who has been to brothels on the Seven Kingdoms.”

She laughed at this. He had upped his game, and she was laughing. Bronn was confused, but pleased.

“And you have accompanied him?”

“To some. And I’ve learned some other stuff here and there.”

She smiled slyly at him.

Inside the pit, (Y/N) sat down in the border of the sort of stone stage that was in the middle. It was like a huge stone platform for dragons to sunbathe on. Tyrion sat next to her, close.

“Thank you for bringing me here. I appreciate it.”

“I hope you like it, your majesty.”

“I thought we had decided on Princess (Y/N).” She put her hand on the stone, quite close to his. The tips of her fingers barely touched his. But they did touch his. He moved his fingers away first, but then he came back.

“I cannot call you (Y/N) in public,” he sighed.

“But now we are alone.”

“Yes. I think Bronn has set his eyes on your Katsha.”

“It rather may have been Katsha making sure he does.”

They laughed.

“You are wearing the pendant,” he observed.

“Yes,” she replied. “I like it very, very much. Because it is rare and unique, and because it is different from the others.”

“Some would say different means bad.”

“But I do not.”

There was a silence. The tips of their fingers remained touching each other. She was scared to look at him, somewhat. He looked at her, revelled in her beauty, since he never even thought he could ever reach to kiss her. She felt her heart pounding. She finally moved her hand away, to put her on her pendant, and this way have an excuse to face him a little bit more.

“Thank you again. I do really enjoy your company, Tyrion.”

“And I yours… (Y/N).”

They fell silent for another while.

“I think we should head back,” said Tyrion.

“Yes. Yes, we should.” She sighed. “King Joffrey must be waiting for the fire-breathing show.”

They went back, this time in a strange silence. They barely looked at each other, and when they did, they looked away again. They were enjoying the moment of intimacy.


	5. The Offer

The show, back in the gardens, was beautiful. Soon it was night time and the final fireworks announced the end of the revels, and the exhausted members of the court left slowly, each to their room. On her way to her chambers, the best ones in the guest wing, she saw many doors open to let sneaky lords and ladies running to other doors, then slamming these shut. It was a funny sight, and planted the idea in her mind of doing something slightly naughty herself. A week or two passed, where the trade deals seemed to advance, and she got to even visit the surroundings of King’s Landing, as well as many other courtiers. Lady Olenna had much to say: Highgarden was a strong part of the deal. Within that week, (Y/N) took the opportunity to talk more to Lady Sansa: gave her gifts from her kingdom, walked with her a couple of times through the gardens. She even hinted at the possibility of taking her in her ship back to the North, but Hartick absolutely refused to it, explaining that she would be getting Niska involved in their war, and to the Lannisters she would be kidnapping a bride-to-be of the royal family and a prisoner. Besides, they did not even know where to drop her in the North, and how dangerous such enterprise could be. Lady Sansa understood, but (Y/N) tried to keep being kind to her, and got her out of as many unpleasant situations as possible, many times by distracting Joffrey’s attention to her. After a time passed, one night, after a long day of negotiating the trade deals, Tyrion arrived to his room to find the princess’ white owl waiting on his table. It had flown in through the balcony, and had a scroll in its claws. Bronn almost threw a knife at it, but Tyrion recognised the bird in time. He took the scroll and the bird flew away, leaving him to read the message.

_Dear Lord Tyrion,_

_Princess (Y/N) of House Truwen requests the honour of your presence in her chambers for a private audience and dinner, today at sunset._

Tyrion looked at Bronn. He raised his eyebrows.

‘It looks like my diplomatic duties are not over yet.’ He said, handing over the paper to Bronn. 'I guess you will have to escort me to the guest wing and guard the door given the delicate political situations we are living lately.' He called for a bath while Bronn scoffed.

‘Getting all fancy for the Queen?’ he mocked.

‘I’m exhausted. We have been negotiating almost all day. And tonight I reckon there will be more negotiations, even if the context in which they will be carried out will be certainly more pleasant. I want to be presentable in the presence of the regent of that very rich kingdom, yes.’

‘Pleasant?’

‘Well, even if it’s business, there is a great difference between sitting in front of a table full of papers with my father, Lord Tyrell’s fat ass, and that tough block of ice that is Lord Hartick, and dining with a beautiful lady.’

‘You’d fuck her, wouldn’t you?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ said Tyrion, pretending to be truly offended, while a few servants started preparing a bath in a corner of his chambers. Partly, he was a bit shocked of hearing something like that about the princess, whom he respected.

‘Everyone would fuck a queen, given the chance. Especially that one. Why wouldn’t you? You are not going to pretend you haven’t noticed her now. And even if you hadn’t, the whole kingdom talks about her beauty.”

‘If you appreciate your head, I entreat you to shut your filthy mouth about the crown’s royal guest.’ Bronn looked away, out the balcony, rising his eyebrows again sceptically.

‘She is a beauty’, admitted Tyrion, ‘I will not pretend I haven’t noticed, or heard about it.’ Bronn retreated completely to the balcony, from where he could see the door but not Tyrion, and could also guard the windows, and Tyrion got undressed and started his bath. ‘However, the difference between you and me is that I usually leave pleasure out of business. Besides, it is not like I ever stood a chance. Some of us are not tall warriors with a cheeky attitude that make trained handmaids like Katsha be seduced in no time.’

‘Oi, don’t be so hard on yourself, you are cheeky.’ Bronn replied humorously. ‘She is trained alright.’

‘So I heard from the princess. Those handmaids are meant to teach them everything a woman should know.’

‘All the more reason for you to want to fuck her, then.’

‘Bronn.’

‘Alright, alright. So what’s this dinner about, then?’

‘I have no idea.’ There was a silent while they both thought of what the dinner could be about, and Tyrion finished his bath. Finally he came out, dried himself, and started getting dressed. ‘It doesn’t matter, anyway. She probably wants to get a report on how things are going and wants to add some details to the trade deals. More work for me. As I said before, I never was one who stood a chance when it comes to palace charades.’

‘The lady seems to enjoy your company, at least.’

‘And I hers.’

‘How many times has that happened, without you paying them?’

‘Not many.’

‘Happy for you, then’

‘Bronn!’

‘What?’, he smiled mischievously. ‘She might like you. I’ve seen stranger couples.’

Tyrion finished drying his hair at the balcony, next to Bronn, taking in the weak sunlight as the sun started to set.

‘Don’t be absurd,’ he said very seriously, looking out the balcony. He then faced him as he fastened the last of his vest and fixed his rebellious hair. ‘How do I look?’

‘If I was a queen, I’d fuck you.’

* * *

(Y/N) had been waiting since the owl came back to her chambers. It had all been taken care of: dinner was served, the table set next to the balcony so that the warm night breeze would caress them as they dined; candles arranged to provide a nice environment and so that they didn’t run out of light. Past the lattice that covered the windows that accessed the balcony, now half-open, a low settee full of cushions waited so they could sit after dinner and continue their talk. Tyrion’s preferred wine rested on the table. She had chosen a cream-coloured light dress with a plunging neckline, but her shoulders were covered to protect her from night shivers. She was so nervous. She knew she could not ever be with Lord Tyrion, at least politics did not seem to allow it for now, and she didn’t even know if he liked her as much as she liked him, and the perspective of an affair made her nervous; it would be the first one she would have with a grown man, and in a place far away from home. She had had flings with some young lords, when she was younger, the ones that Katsha had reminded her of: but never an affair with someone older than herself, or as mature as Lord Tyrion. An adult, she could say. An affair, should Lord Tyrion requite her, was not completely discarded, but it was daunting. And it would make Hartick insanely angry, that was for sure. But she was no longer a child, and Hartick could no longer parent her. However, he had suggested a concept that could fit for Lord Tyrion, and she intended to ask him about it tonight.

There was a knock at the door, and Katsha, her faithful accomplice in this whole setup, opened the door and went outside. She came in a second later.

‘Lord Tyrion Lannister, madam.’

‘Let him in,’ she said, standing next to the table, very concentrated on looking her best.

Tyrion walked in and Katsha left them. They were alone.

‘Lord Tyrion, welcome. I am glad you could come.’

‘I would never miss it, your majesty.’

Outside, Katsha greeted Bronn, who met her with expectation.

‘You gonna tell me what’s going on in there?’

‘I have a better idea of what to do during this time,’ she said. She called two of the princess’ personal guards to stand for them, and started leading Bronn to her room. ‘We will be back soon, I promise. I just hope not too soon,’ she whispered slyly.

Back inside, the princess motioned Tyrion to sit down.

‘Please,’ she offered him, ‘I have asked for your favourite wine. Let us drink and talk and taste this delicious meal.’

Tyrion bowed, thanking her, and sat down. ‘I am happy to inform you that the trade deals are going excellently,’ he said. ‘By this time tomorrow I believe we will have closed all remaining details.’

‘Oh, I know. Lord Hartick has told me everything already. Allow me to say what a wonderful job you have all been doing. I am exceedingly happy with the development of this deal.’

‘I see.’ Tyrion wondered what he was doing there, then. ‘What will your majesty… Oh, alright. What will you do after this? Perhaps you would like to visit some other parts of Westeros?’

‘Alas, neither King Joffrey nor Hartick consider it wise to travel at such times. Perhaps the next time I come I shall take the kind invitation from the Tyrrells to visit Highgarden. I have also heard great things about Dorne, but as a northerner myself, I feel very drawn to the great landscapes you have in the North, and of course, the legendary Wall.’

‘A pity, indeed, that you shan’t see these places. Next time, no doubt. You would be going back, then, to Niska?’

‘Yes, I suppose I will. I need to go back to my people.’

‘Certainly.’ There was an awkward silence. ‘Well, it is a pleasure knowing that you will be coming back soon enough.’

‘It will never seem soon enough when there is such good company here,’ she sighed with a smile. Before that laid down, she changed topic nervously. ‘But for now, let us enjoy this wonderful dinner. I must say Westerosi food is better than I expected. You have a great cook here at the Red Keep.’

‘Is food much more different than this in Niska?’

‘I believe we have less variety of vegetables, it being a colder kingdom. However, we do have big and small game, too. There is also this kind of deer, the elk, that can be quite delicious. Similar to your venison, but we cook it in whiskey or mead, or with raspberries. It tastes slightly stronger.’

‘Do you have many animals that are different?’

‘Well, I don’t believe you have ice bears in Westeros.’

‘We do not.’

‘They are a kind of, well, bears. But they are bigger than brown bears that live in the woods. They live in the snowy mountains, and are completely white, with bigger claws that look blue as icicles. They are more intelligent too, and fiercer. If you don’t pose a threat to them, they may even approach and be docile as lambs, and play in the snow. But if they feel you are threatening them, they could kill you in an instant. Some of them choose lucky and noble warriors to be their companions and follow them, loyal as dogs. Only four people, however, have been known to be companions of ice bears. Two of them, Princess Cordelia and Lord Gawain, were my ancestors.’

‘Fascinating. You being a beast whisperer, perhaps one day an ice bear might choose you.’

‘It would be an honour I do not dream of. But who knows.’

‘You never told me the name of your owl. That intelligent creature brought me a message like a raven would.’

‘She has no name. Similar to ice bears, she chose me and I chose her, and we have an alliance. But she does not belong to me, so I gave her no name.’

They were starting dessert now.

‘Full of fascinating beasts, this land of yours. Perhaps one day I should be the one to visit your court.’

She looked at him, not giving him an answer. Her blue eyes were fixed in his in a way that was eating him up. He longed to know if that look hid something else he could not even dream of.

‘On that note, Lord Tyrion, perhaps there is something we could do.’

‘What do you mean, princess?’

‘Now that the relations between our kingdoms are prospering, I have been advised to bring back with me an ambassador. It would be necessary to have someone who has the crown’s trust back in my kingdom, to ensure the relations continue and the deals are being kept. I have not talked about this to your father yet, because I was thinking of offering it to you before any other candidates were put forward.’

‘You want me to go to Niska as an ambassador of Westeros?’

‘Please forgive me if it is bold or inappropriate. I do not see why a lord of trust, and much more if he is a relative of the royal family, shouldn’t be a suitable candidate for the role. But perhaps I am overestimating our importance in Westeros as a trade alliance.’

‘Well, no… Not at all, princess (Y/N)… I am just… surprised, and bewildered… I…’

‘A man of your diplomatic talent, who is doing so much good for the kingdom, would be greatly appreciated and would do a wonderful service to the Crown as an ambassador to Niska.’ She had stood up, and was looking out to the balcony, shyly avoiding his look, which was, however fixed on her. I am doing this terribly, she thought. The man despises me as young and inexperienced. ‘Of course, you do not have to give me an answer now, and I suppose the decision will have to go through the Council. Perhaps you are not interested, if something… or someone… ties you to King’s Landing.’

There was a silence in which she finally dared to look back at him.

‘Well… I do not have… ties, not that I can think of right now.’ Hadn’t this been always his dream? To be able to get the fuck out of there, and this time it being with his family’s blessing and money, lawfully and on his own foot? He would have a great life and see new worlds. But it was a long trip, certainly not a decision to be taken lightly. ‘But I appreciate Your Majesty giving me a little time to think about it. It is indeed a big decision, if an honour and a pleasure to serve you in such a way. Of course my family will have to decide, but we all know my sister and father can’t bear the sight of me, and I would still be useful to them.’ He smiled, and she coyly looked down. ‘There are possibilities of a favourable response.’ He couldn’t help adding this upon seeing her moonlit face do this, her smile trying to hide by being directed at the floor.

‘I am very happy to hear that. For now, and to celebrate even this tiny favourable prospects, let us have this noble wine après-diner on the balcony, shall we?’

Tyrion stood up and walked to the balcony as the princess walked to the door, letting in a radiant Katsha, her hair slightly undone, come in and take the remains of the dinner away. As Katsha left, she joined him in the balcony, sitting down next to him on the settee.

‘To a promising future’, she toasted, lifting her cup.

‘To bright perspectives’, he agreed.


	6. The Kiss

They both drank in silence for a while, and she let out a little giggle.

‘You will excuse me, Lord Tyrion, if the wine has got a bit to my head. I am not used to drinking it throughout dinner and it is a Westerosi habit I have not got used to.’

‘Well, you should if you want to dine with me again. Your courtiers will have informed you of my great reputation with wine. They say I have a problem with drinking, but I do not. In fact, we are best of friends.’

They both laughed, and went on gossiping about others in court that also drank too much, especially back at the ball they had had. 

‘I don’t think Niskan courtiers are ever this fun to be talked about,’ she giggled.

‘Perhaps you have never dared talk about them with enough malice, and you are learning some of that here,’ he replied, and they laughed again.

‘If you follow me to Niska, then you can teach me more and we can make fun of some Niskan courtiers,’ she said.

‘I think I would follow you to Niska even if it was at the end of the world.’

She looked at him and he realised there was no going back after saying that. It had felt so natural and sincere that he just looked back at her, and suddenly they were both serious, and the only sound in the night was their breaths as they faced each other for an instant that seemed like ages. But both realised that they were glancing at each other’s lips and then it took less than a second to join in a delicate, yet passionate kiss. It didn’t last too long, but it was intense and powerful and the princess felt all her body yielding to it, and she ran her fingers through his hair while his tongue expertly danced with hers. She felt his dubitative hand gently touch her shoulder, and gently grab it, then caress down her arm. He was yielding, too. She was an extremely good kisser, and he had enough experience to be a good judge of that. He was pleasantly surprised by her warm breath, her fiery kiss that tasted of wine, coming from a young lady born in the snow and who always had cold hands and icy skin. When they parted, his breath was irregular; her hands were shaking, and both their hearts were pounding furiously. His gaze suddenly became extremely sad and taciturn, and he looked away.

‘What is it?’ she asked, worried. Had he not liked it? Did he regret it?

‘’Tis nothing,’ he said with a sad smile. ‘I… I think this is the first time I kiss a lady who has not been paid for it.’ He said sadly, remembering Bronn’s words.

Suddenly she felt brave, and sweet, and playful, full of tenderness for his vulnerability.

‘I am glad to introduce you to such pleasure, lord Tyrion. Allow me to further demonstrate.’ She kissed him again sweetly, her palm on his cheek. He responded, but then parted again.

‘This is not another ruse played by my sister to make me suffer, is it?’

‘How on Earth?’ she answered, offended and annoyed.

Tyrion stood up and check both sides of the balcony. He looked everywhere. But there was no one spying on them, nothing but the soft night breeze had witnessed their kiss. He came in the room, and when the princess followed him, he closed the lattice blinds.

‘Tyrion, listen to me. Tyrion, why are you doing this?’

‘Because I truly want this to be real,’ he said, and she saw there were almost tears in his eyes.

‘Me too.’ She whispered.

‘And it is exactly why I would expect my sister to stage it and make me suffer for it later. Or ruin my position.’

‘Tyrion, this is real.’ She approached him, her hands forward, and put them on her shoulders, kneeling. ‘Can you not trust me?’

‘Usually, I cannot trust anyone,’ he said, more calmly.

She kissed him again, but his response was weak, and careful. She then kissed him harder, and he felt her fiddling with the braces of his vest.

‘(Y/N)! What are you doing?’

‘Do you think a queen would risk as much as losing her maidenhood for a ruse? Let’s see.’

‘No!’ He stopped her. She looked at him in the eye, determined. ‘Don’t do that for me.’

‘I was not going to do it only for you,’ she smiled.

‘In any case, it is wiser to wait. You are so young, and a queen, and I am…’ She kissed him again, not letting him finish, not wanting to hear the bad things he would want to say about himself. This time he responded more passionately, and his hand rested on her cheek, upon which she smiled while kissing him. Then the kiss ended, and he looked at her seriously in the eye, his hand still caressing her cheek. ‘My sister must never know any of this. No one must ever know any of this, or she will ruin it, she will ruin everything, and I will fear even for your life. She mustn’t even suspect that I would follow you to Niska as an ambassador.’

She smiled. ‘So you will come?’

‘Listen to me, (Y/N). No Lannister must ever know.’

‘What are we to do, then?’

He walked around the room a little. (Y/N) poured wine for the both of them.

‘We will make her believe it is her idea. That she is making me miserable, sending me away and getting rid of me. While I am useful to the family, my father will side with her.’

‘Can you do that?’

‘I can try with all my heart. I see no other way she’d agree.’ (Y/N) sighed and took a sip of the wine. ‘While this happens we cannot risk to be seen together. Not like this. In fact, it is already late, and it will be risky to be seen close to your room. They already know we get along. For now, they consider it a good thing, but they must never suspect anything else.’

‘Not even where they’d never see us?’

‘They would see us anywhere.’

‘What about… What about Petyr Baelish’s establishment?’

‘Petyr Baelish will sell us without batting an eye as soon as it suits him, even with his business with you. My sister has spies everywhere. Besides…’

‘What?’

‘You would never be comfortable seeing me there. The girls… they know me.’

She didn’t respond to this. She remained silent for a little while and then looked at him.

‘You will be faithful to me?’

He took her hand.

‘Until my dying end.’

‘You will not go see those girls again?’

‘That stopped happening since the day I met you… especially since I met you there.’

‘How will we wait? I want to know you more.’

‘We will have time for that when we are far from here. I would leave with you in any case. I was going to leave with you even when I did not dare to dream you could ever like me.’

Her expression softened, and she smiled at him.

‘Like you! I thought _you_ disliked _me_.’

‘How could I ever dislike you?’

Katsha came in.

‘Madam, it’s late. You asked me to warn you if it got late.’

‘That is my cue to leave. Katsha is right, it is late. And I have said how dangerous it is that we are seen together. Tomorrow, I promise, as soon as the trade deals are closed, I will talk about the ambassador offer, and will do my best to show my displeasure for it.’

She kissed him for the last time.

‘Good luck, Tyrion.’

‘All shall be well, (Y/N).’

Then he left her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep all night. But at least she had Katsha to share with her what had happened.

Tyrion left the chambers looking left and right, and managed to arrive back to his with no problems. Except, that is, Bronn’s burning question:

‘Did you fuck her?’

‘Bronn, I will not say it again.’

‘No, lord Tyrion,’ he replied mockingly, ‘but look at your face.’

‘She is a queen. You don’t fuck them the night that…’ Then he shut up, conscious of his mistake. His head was all dizzy.

‘Oh, boy. So you did. Well, you didn’t. But she likes you. You’ve kissed her, haven’t you?’

‘Bronn, I will not talk about this with you, and I remind you that I pay you to be on my side and keep your mouth shut.’

‘Understood, boss’, he replied with a smile. ‘Ha!’

Katsha opened her eyes wide as soon as Tyrion had left the room. Her interrogating stare made the princess jump in excitement. She helped her undress and get on her dressing gown as (Y/N) told her everything that had happened. After a lot of talk about Tyrion, men in general, and Bronn, they ended up talking about sex. Katsha was slightly worried about (Y/N)’s bold move with Tyrion, but she agreed that she was no longer a child, and that a lover, with utmost care, was as common and forgivable among her inner circle as it was for kings to take one. She was after all the regent, and she was entitled to do as she pleased. Besides, she was there to help and protect her. The plan was good, as well. Hartick would not like it, but he would approve of Tyrion as an ambassador. They fantasised about Tyrion’s experience in women.

‘I just wonder… I mean, not that it has to be of importance, if he has been able to be with many women, but… I can’t help but wonder if… given his… height…’

‘You would like to know if his manhood is as short as he is?’ asked Katsha slyly.

‘Well…’ she seemed annoyed but she admitted it. ‘Yes. I just wonder.’

‘Luckily for you, madam, I am here to tell you. I was talking to Bronn about his, and men just love to brag and talk about manhood as much as possible. And so he was doing, not that he can’t, mind you, madam. Bronn is… big. His height does not deceive. Anyway, I couldn’t help but feeling… curious too, if you may pardon me, madam. I asked Bronn, also thinking that eventually you might be interested in this information… and since he was bragging, he didn’t mind telling me. He said he’s seen him by chance, when he gets changed or in the bath, and that he was surprised to see he was… normal. I mean normal, like a regular man. No… no… dwarf cock.’

They both laughed at Katsha’s words, and the princess had to admit she was glad to know. And perhaps a bit relieved, too.


	7. The Hidden Truth

Tyrion did not waste any time in telling his family about the ambassador position. As soon as the deals were sealed, at the end of the morning, Hartick left to inform the princess and Tyrion was left alone with the Council.

‘What were you doing at the queen of Niska’s room yesterday night? A private audience, perhaps’ asked Cersei, ready to jump at his brother’s throat. Tywin looked at him inquisitively.

‘What I am about to tell you, sister. Private audience indeed. She requested my presence and over dinner, explained to me that she is now interested in offering us to bring an ambassador to Niska, someone who can protect and oversee the trade deals, and assure the relation between our kingdoms stays strong. She then proceeded to offer me said position.’

‘And what did you say?’ asked Tywin. Tyrion looked at him, allowing a pause, like a rebellious teenager.

‘That it would have to be consulted with the Council and that I was sure we could find many others more suited for the position than me.’

‘Like who?’ asked Cersei.

‘Well, I don’t know, but the only reason I am telling you she offered it to me personally is because she will end up mentioning it at some point. But surely there are others. Mace Tyrrell.’ Lord Tyrrell was absent from the Council at that point.

‘Mace Tyrrell is a fool and can’t do anything on his own,’ said Cersei.

‘Loras Tyrrell, someone close enough to us. But I am needed here. Am I not? Who is going to do my job?’

‘I can handle it,’ said Tywin.

‘I would have thought you of all people would be interested in leaving far from here, from all of us,’ observed Cersei suspiciously.

‘What good would that do to me, if I were still under your orders?’ said Tyrion. ‘I’d rather stay here where I know the whores and I know the wine, thank you very much. I _will_ stay here, where I know the whores and I know the wine.’

‘Coincidentally, this offer is very adequate to something your sister and I had thought of. It can fit perfectly, if the Niskan queen agrees,’ said Tywin.

‘Oh?’ asked Tyrion.

‘It was bold of us to offer Joffrey’s hand in marriage. They both have kingdoms to rule and they are too far apart. I understand why she refused. However, the queen is, nonetheless, past the first years for marriage. She is still young, but will be interested in marriage if offered the right hand. Rather than marrying you to Sansa Stark, it would prove a much powerful and richer alliance if you married _her_.’

There was a silence in which Tyrion had to summon all his better judgement not to smile or show any hint of emotion: nothing but fake concern.

‘Excuse me, why me? Why not marry her to Loras Tyrrell, as soon as his family is our family through Joffrey's marriage to Margaery?’

‘Don’t be stupid, the Tyrrells and the Truwen would never need us together. We can still marry Loras Tyrrell to Sansa Stark and keep the North, but letting the two richest families on the scene marry each other, and give the Tyrrells the alliance to another crown!’

‘How convenient,’ said Tyrion, truly angry, not because of the marriage idea, which was confusing but at the same time he was discovering he actually liked it, but because of his father’s plan. He fought the feelings coming up from his gut, which were on fire as he discovered that he loved her enough to marry her, and concentrated on what he was being told. ‘How convenient that my sister gets rid of the marriage she didn’t like or want, and we still have everything nicely tied down. Even the tortured Sansa Stark catches a break by being married to a sissy who will leave her alone and be kind to her at the same time, while _I_ still have to marry against my will. Oh, and it is perfect, isn’t it? Because the best part is that you also lose sight of me.’

‘Don’t pretend you will not be happy of losing sight of us,’ said Tywin.

‘You know, for once, you could think about the fact that I still see you as my father. But you acknowledge so little of your fatherhood that you even dismiss what I feel as a son.’

‘Don’t be dramatic,’ said Tywin contemptuously, ‘I am giving you marriage to a queen, no less, and offering you the opportunity of leaving this place you so hate.’

‘You are not giving me anything. There is a flaw in your plan which seems to originate in the fact that you have got too used to seeing me. What makes you think the young, beautiful queen of a self-sufficient, vastly rich kingdom will agree to marry me? The Imp? The Dwarf?’

‘You seem to get on,’ said Cersei coldly.

‘Look again, then,’ said Tyrion, ‘she knows she has to butter someone up so the trade deals work out, and she is probably terrified of you, and knows she lacks the experience to even talk to father.’

‘We will see how she talks to you now that the deal is closed. Find another private audience with her. Set a mood. Find a nice moment _today,_ and _you_ will butter _her_ up this time.’

Tyrion tried to refuse, but his father, as usual, raged on him that he would have the Golden Capes mercilessly kill Bronn, then imprison him in Casterly Rock for treason and kill all the whores in the city until he found one he cared about. Tyrion pretended to be miserable about it, and he did his best to pretend as long as possible while he left walking along the corridors. He needed to think about all that. Marry her? Was he ready for marriage? Did he _want_ to get married? That was a bit too much. Too rushed. But it seemed like his only chance to actually get away from King’s Landing with a woman he… loved. He loved her alright. And he felt immensely lucky that not a young lady, but a young queen, beautiful and intelligent, loved _him_ , the biggest monster he had met, the aberration of nature. Perhaps… but his mind set it apart, for now, in doubt and shame and panic.

He didn’t get to see Princess (Y/N) until much later at night, when she had gone through all the papers and signatures and details of the deals with Hartick. He went straight to his room. Thankfully, Hartick was tired and had left to rest. The guards at the door, the ten most loyal men (Y/N) had found, would not say anything, but (Y/N) didn’t like leaving anything to chance. They denied him entrance, Tyrion heard her say it, but he was just leaving when right at the corner, he heard (Y/N) clearly and loudly order her guards to go rest and call the next round. The guards left, and she was standing at the door, looking at him. Tyrion walked towards her dubitatively, but she held the door and waited for him. She was wearing nothing but a luxurious cream and golden silk dressing gown, and he could half see her bare legs when she moved and the fabric moved a little. She was barefoot and her hair was completely down, free and slightly ruffled. As he approached, Tyrion felt a bit uncomfortable as he realised that she was in her most intimate clothes, the way she looked when she relaxed in private. She was not inviting him for an audience; this was something else. And, as excited as that could make him feel, he was also nervous about it. She closed the door behind him and locked it, and kneeled before him.

‘I hope the deals…’ he started, but she interrupted him. ‘Please Tyrion,’ she begged, her hands sliding up his chest and to his shoulders. ‘No more talk about the deals. I have been working on that all day, and so have you. Tell me what the Council said about you being my ambassador.’

‘I… my princess, this is no attire for business,’ he joked, but also hoping that she would stop being so close to him and hear everything he had to say.

‘Did they agree, then?’

The feeling of guilt, however, that he had been dragging all day since his father had told him of his intentions, started pulling him down, heavier than ever. He didn’t want her to rush into a marriage that could make her so miserable. He thought of how young she was, of how important; of all the good suitors that she would have to turn down after, and how much she would regret when her passion, an infatuation that he could not explain except that with the fact that she was impressionable, was gone. He thought that she was only impressed by his peculiarity, his difference, and his charisma and way of talking: a young passion. He could be a whim, he could only be a whim to her, and he simply could not believe that she would love a monster like him forever: but he knew that he would. But he had to protect her. His face became grave and serious, and his hand grabbed softly hers while he looked her in the eye.

‘My princess, you do not have to do what the Council says… yours is the final word, and before I tell you the current Council’s position, allow me to assure you that I will always understand and support you if you eventually decide you don’t want me by your side.’

‘They said yes,’ she said calmly, sadly, pitying the look on Tyrion’s face. ‘How dare you say such a thing? I waited for you here, like this, because I was afraid. I was afraid they’d say no, and I thought if that happened… Then I didn’t want to leave this place without making the most of every second with you. Do you understand that? And since you are going to be by my side, I want to celebrate, by being yours.’

Tyrion could not stand it any longer, and he kissed her furiously as a single tear ran down his cheek, and her hands went up to his hair, running her fingers through it while she tried to breathe among his passionate kisses. He felt like a man more than ever before, more than any time he had been with a woman whose love he had bought. He pushed her slightly: being kneeling, she actually yielded and fell to the floor, receiving him in her arms when he lied over her, and as he looked at her in the eye, (Y/N) felt his hand softly caress down her neck, softly, until it reached the clasp of her dressing gown. She looked at him while he unclasped it, and he kissed her again, and she felt his hand up and down her body, fighting against her undergarments, reaching her breasts and gently cup them, then caressing her nipples. She let out a moan. He kissed her harder.

‘Let’s move to the bed,’ she managed to say. He stood up and gently offered her both hands to stand up. Yes, this must truly be how gentlemen like Jaime or Robb Stark felt when they were with ladies. She stood up only to lean on him and kiss him sweetly, and they climbed on the bed, where she drew the curtains. They were both kneeling on the bed, kissing, and she had got rid of her dressing gown as she stood up and was in her undergarment. With a little struggle she managed to undress him.

‘I don’t know how to undress a man’, she apologised sweetly as she struggled. He was now only wearing his underpants. He lied her down, and was lying over her when he stopped.

‘Are you sure you want this?’ he asked softly, as he cupped her cheek in his hand. He looked at her as she was the most precious treasure he had ever found.

‘Will you come to Niska and be with me?’

‘Even if I have to sneak out as a stowaway on your ship in a basket of apples.’ He said smiling, touching her forehead with his. She laughed and kissed him.

‘Yes, I want you.’

It hurt much less than she had expected, and she felt how he fit perfectly inside her. More would have been too big and painful; less, well, she didn’t want to think about it; his manhood was indeed not what you’d expect from a dwarf. It was better. The pain soon gave way to pleasure, and she would remember it as the best night in her life for many moons to come, and he discovered the softness, sweetness, pleasure, and loveliness of a proper lady, and he fell in love with her over and over throughout the night. She didn’t need to fall in love with him again, but in any case she could not have: over and over she lost herself in pleasure thanks to Tyrion’s experience and know-how. He was sweet and gentle; and as the night advanced and she grew a bit braver, he allowed himself to be bolder. Still, tender was the night for both of them, and when their heads rested on the pillow, exhausted and happy, she saw him properly laugh for the first time, and a sincere smile was on his face as he drew it close to hers. She was glowing and felt brand new. He could not believe himself when he heard himself tell her he loved her, his smile gone, and again a tear came to his eye. She took him in her arms and let him cry. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered.

When the sun rose, she woke up to Tyrion’s lion hair shining under the first rays of sun. He opened his eyes.

‘Good morning, princess (Y/N).’

‘Good morning, Lord Tyrion.’

He kissed her, and she smirked.

‘I thought you said it was too risky to see each other. You have failed miserably to set an example for that purpose.’

‘I guess so. It is still too risky. But if you had seen yourself waiting for me in that dressing-gown, you would understand I stood no chance of resisting.’

‘They will think I have got myself a lover now.’

‘Hmm… that could be good,’ he said as he rolled over her and kissed her neck repeatedly. ‘The more inappropriate your alleged lover is to their interests, the more they will want you to return to Niska.’

‘Oh, I heard their great enemy, Robb Stark, is one of those extremely handsome northerners.’

‘If only he wasn’t far away in the North in the middle of a war.’

‘Well, what about Loras Tyrrell? He is quite decent looking too, and a brave knight in shining armour.’

‘Hm, yes, you could take him… Except it’s not exactly women that he fancies.’

‘Damn, it looks like all the good ones are taken,’ she said enticingly, rolling over him and kissing him.

Katsha came in suddenly (she had a key of the room just in case), closing the door behind her, and before they could complain, she interrupted:

‘Pardon me, madam, but Queen Cersei is at the door,’ she said, her face full of fear. ‘You must go,’ she added looking at Tyrion.


	8. The Proposal

(Y/N) jumped out of her bed and into her dressing-gown on, picking up Tyrion’s clothes hurriedly and throwing them to him.

‘Hurry up,’ she said in a whisper, ‘hide! No, you can’t stay on the bed, she might draw the curtains for whatever reason. Come on!’

Tyrion put a few of his clothes on jumped out of the bed, rushing to the balcony, closing the lattice windows behind him and sitting behind the settee and a decorative rose bush. (Y/N) fixed her hair a little, made sure the bed curtains were closed so Cersei could not see the extremely chaotic bed, and breathed deeply.

‘Let her in,’ she said.

Queen Cersei walked in; her hands folded hiding in her sleeves, her eyebrow arched in her usual way.

‘Your majesty,’ she greeted with a smile, ‘I hope you are able to forgive me for my state. I am afraid I overslept this morning, exhausted after yesterday’s work.’

She paused as she did sometimes before starting a conversation, like a lioness pouncing on a prey.

‘I understand, your majesty. I hope you are well rested now.’

‘I am, thank you very much. Pray tell me, queen Cersei, how can I be of assistance?’

‘We have not heard from my brother this morning, so I thought I would come here directly and ask you, from one queen, and woman, to another.’

(Y/N)’s heart started pounding furiously, and she did her best to hide it with an interrogating face.

‘I am not sure I understand you.’

‘Ask you what your answer is to the offer that has been extended to you in response to your petition for my brother as an ambassador.’ There was an awkward pause in which the queen maintained eye contact with her usual ruthless facial expression, in which (Y/N) honestly did not know how to react. ‘If your response to marriage with my brother, uncle to the king of Westeros, is favourable, it was to be my courtesy to offer you the court seamstress to make arrangements for the wedding dress. We will talk of other details later.’ (Y/N) was stunned, and she could not hide it.

‘I… had not been offered a… I mean… I don’t have an answer yet.’

Cersei did not change her voice tone a single octave, nor did she change her face, except for a glint of satisfaction in her eyes.

‘Oh, dear. It seems like I spoiled the surprise. My brother must have been busy rushing into a wine of celebration of such high honour, I am sure. I hope you have time to think about it and talk to my brother, if you find him.’

‘I will think about it, and we shall discuss it as soon as possible.’ (Y/N) hardened herself and gave her this cold, stern reply. Anger for Tyrion was growing within her and helping her be more herself and acting her rank now. ‘Now if you will excuse me, your majesty, I thank you for the courtesy, no doubt a product of excitement for such alliance, and I ask you to let me get dressed so we can sort this matter out.’

‘Indeed. My apologies for interrupting in such a manner.’

With that, the queen left, and silence fell in the room. (Y/N) waited until she was completely gone, and Katsha checked she was far enough. Then she turned around, seeing Tyrion slowly come out of his hiding place. Quickly she grabbed a cup and threw it at him, hitting him on the chest.

‘I was going to tell you.’

‘Oh, were you?’ she said, furious, ‘That’s nice, otherwise it would have felt strange to suddenly find myself trying out wedding dresses!’

‘I mean I was about to tell you, yesterday, but…’

‘Get out. Just… go away now. Get dressed and go. I need to be alone, I need to get ready, get dressed, and think about this.’

‘Think about it?’

‘Tyrion, go, now,’ she said in her captain voice. ‘I will talk to you later, not now, I can’t now. Go.’

Tyrion got dressed in silence as she called for a bath and just as it was ready he sneaked out of the room, careful not to be seen until he was unsuspiciously far away from the guest wing. (Y/N) took her bath calmly, thinking of everything. Katsha dressed her in silence and finally, a few hours later she was in the garden, waiting for Tyrion. They walked in silence for a little while until he dared to speak.

‘I am sorry for not having told you.’

‘Or asked me.’

‘Or asked you.’

There was a silence again.

‘May I ask what you think of it?’, he finally said.

‘I don’t know, Tyrion. It is sudden. And it is strange to think about it. And I am afraid Hartick may not love it.’

‘I believe Hartick to like me very much, however. At least he likes me more than he likes the rest of my family. And he has been working so hard in these deals.’

‘Yes, but he sees me almost as a daughter. And he has, in a way, been a second father. And we did not expect to go back home with a husband.’

‘I understand. Well, I reiterate what I said yesterday, when I was about to tell you. It is your choice and you hold the reins. You don’t have to necessarily say yes… If you don’t want to.’

‘I know.’

‘But… if it were to happen, what would you think of it?’

‘I am not sure.’

He knew it was not completely fair, but he dared tell her what was eating him up.

‘You said that you loved me.’

‘You said that too. Does that mean you would marry me on the spot?’

He sighed.

‘It is likely, if I am honest. But I try to understand your position, which is quite different to mine.’

‘Indeed it is, Tyrion. It is complicated. Very. I don’t know what the court will think. I don’t know how the houses with suitors will react.’

‘I assume you won’t have a lack of them.’

‘No, I don’t.’ She paused. ‘Did you suggest it?’

‘No. It was my sister’s idea. A clever political move, and a constant search to make me miserable. She obviously doesn’t know of us.’

‘And if she did, she would find a way to take the offer back.’

He paused, looking at her.

‘Yes. But at great cost for me, I gather.’

The snow in her seemed to melt a little.

‘I know, Tyrion. I wouldn’t do anything like that. I still have choices… It’s just… It’s just all this dancing with lions, exhausts me and scares me.’

‘It does it to me, too. They are my family but don’t always view me as such. You have heard the stories. My sister blames me for our mother’s death. I am only the Imp who killed her mother.’

‘And you? How do you view them? How much do you consider them family?’ She was serious and pale, her eyes looking to the horizon. They had reached the edge of the garden, which was at the top of a wall of the Keep, and could observe the wide sea. The sun was reflected in strings of cloud, painting them pink and gold and blue. The sky competed with the sea for the most intense blue, like peacocks showing of their bright feathers. ‘Would you always follow them?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Trade deals break when wars come. Your family is cruel, and want power for themselves. There may come a time when their power is challenged, and they shall turn for our ships and our archers. But we are trade allies, and don’t fight in wars that don’t belong to us. And we will not answer. And if our interests do lie somewhere that falls on the opposite side to your family, we will fight them. Tell me, Tyrion. If such time comes, where will you stand?’

Tyrion looked at her, wondering why she was not fully conscious of his relationship with his family, and their character. He took her hand and kissed it.

‘With you, my princess. Always with you.’

She smiled.

‘Then I believe we have a wedding to plan, if it pleases you, my lord.’


	9. The Negotiation

‘You will have to negotiate,’ Tyrion had said once Hartick was updated. He had liked it much more than they expected it. ‘If there is a glimpse of suspicion my father will not mind, but my sister will go to the end of the world to see that I am unhappy. They will expect you to negotiate, ask about everything and anything. As a queen and bride-to-be, you need to know why exactly they offer you this marriage. What is their purpose, and why are they offering me instead of any other. You want them to give you assurance as to your heirs. What will they expect from them? What will they be, what will they have? What do you get out of this marriage? Anything else other than gold and trade deals? What does Casterly Rock have that might be interesting for your children to have?’

‘He is right,’ said Hartick. ‘This time I cannot be there.’

But the princess knew that all her sass, all her endurance, and everything she had learned in sailing, fighting, and ruling, would assist her. Of trade deals, she still knew little. She was not good with money, but she was good with words. And this time it was personal. She went into the lion’s den, to sit between Cersei and Tywin, and talk about a marriage she yearned for, pretending she did not.

‘I am sure you will have many questions,’ said Tywin, his piercing eyes stabbing her. ‘My daughter is here representing king Joffrey, of course. We would like to know if you will consider our proposal of marrying my son.’

‘If the proposal was not worth of being considered I would not even be sitting here talking to you, lord Tywin. I am here to ask questions indeed.’

Cersei glanced at her father over her wine glass, arching her brow. She did not expect the strong entrance, but she was always ready for such force.

‘I am sure we will be happy to reply to all of them.’

‘Firstly, and most importantly, I would like to discuss the terms of such a marriage. I hope this offer does not condition the deals.’

‘This offer is a consequence of said deals, which have satisfied us so much, and of which we are so proud and enthusiastic, that we would like to further secure them with such a permanent alliance that only a marriage could seal. Furthermore, it solves the matter of appointing an ambassador.’

‘I see. I also see, however, that this marriage benefits you much more than it benefits me. This is not only the Seven Kingdoms securing an alliance. This is the Lannister family. Even the Tyrrels, perhaps, now that they will be part of the family. Your son, your majesty, is king, and you have a second heir, too. But their names are Baratheon. My children would be Lannister. The Lannisters will be then associated with a second royal family, and this time the heir will carry their name. Political alliance, trading benefits, and a family alliance. Tell, me lord Tywin, while you have two of your grandchildren sitting on thrones, what will I have, other than a supply of gold as long as you have it, and a very privileged ambassador?’

‘They have not offered you anything to drink,’ said Cersei sweetly, in her whispering, always slightly threatening voice. ‘Would you like some wine?’

‘I’d prefer mead, your majesty, thank you.’

She smiled again.

‘Mead and ale, I hear. Warrior’s drinks.’

‘I am a warrior. Oh, I almost forgot. You make an alliance to a Kingdom armed with the Ice Fleet, the lightest, most precise army in the seas, commanded by myself. They do not let women do that here in Westeros, do they?’ A servant put a cup of mead in front of her. ‘Thank you,’ she said to the servant, taking a sip. Cersei was visibly annoyed. It seemed to be working: she needed to be so annoyed by her, that she would want to prove how good and powerful their alliance was, and also eager to send Tyrion away with her hateful company. She needed to associate disgust to her so she would couple them up. She knew, however, that Tywin was more difficult, but his interest was his family, and he would do anything for them.

‘The Lannister family is the richest in the Seven Kingdoms,’ said Cersei calmly. ‘We own gold mines that produce enough to build whole palaces only with it. Casterly Rock is set on a huge deposit of gold. There is an economic alliance worth considering, apart from your own trade and crown benefits. Both royal families would be permanently bonded and eternal allies.’

‘As the only male Lannister heir, your son would be lord of Casterly Rock upon my death.’ Tywin added, causing a slight frown in Cersei’s face. ‘He would own the very gold which allows your trade deals, and thanks to the Lannister’s alliance with the Tyrrels, you could use it in trading with them, too.’

‘I assume, then, this is why your offer is to marry lord Tyrion, and not any other ally from court.’

‘We appreciate and respect your majesty too much for that, and we are proud and honoured to offer a member of our own family,’ said Tywin.

‘Even when said family member is… slightly damaged.’ There was a silence. ‘What guarantees do I have that my heirs will not be afflicted with their father’s malformation?’

‘There has never been anything like it in our family. Tyrion is an isolated case. The chance of the gods.’ Said Cersei.

‘It has however, not prevented him from having a prodigious mind, especially for politics and diplomacy, as you will no doubt have heard and been able to see for yourself,’ added Tywin.

‘I am sure you will have heard other things from our enemies about my brother. But whatever dissolute live he has lived has only been the product of indulging himself as the bright young man he is. He has proved to be competent and responsible and could make a lovely consort,’ Cersei said all this almost gritting her teeth, causing her physical effort to actually say those words.

Then (Y/N) knew to hit where it hurt.

‘There might have been a misunderstanding. I believe you have another son, the eldest of the two, and therefore, the true heir. I unfortunately could not see enough of him before he left the capital, but I saw that he is a warrior, and quite handsome, too. Best swordsman in the Seven Kingdoms. It would be his children, certainly, the ones who shall inherit Casterly Rock after him? Why not marry him? I would be delighted to get to know Sir Jaime.’ Cersei was now tenser than ever, but she was ruthless. It did sound as if they had been tricking her. ‘He is the king’s uncle too, is he not, lord Tywin?’

Tywin was calm and collected, as usual.

‘Alas, my son, Sir Jaime, who is now fighting the northerners, has vowed to remain celibate, by the rules of the King’s Guard. When he is back from battle he will return to his post.’

‘You can vouch for that?’

‘Indeed,’ said Cersei.

‘I am sure you have no lack of suitors, your majesty, back in your kingdom. We understand it is a difficult decision. However, time is of the essence and we would appreciate it if we could have an answer soon. I am sure your people will be very happy to see their queen return with a husband.

‘Except, of course, the many gentlemen whose heart will be broken for the marriage of such a beauty as your majesty.’

She smiled to Cersei, taking another sip of her mead before replying.

‘Your majesty is too kind. I have had suitors, but none worth considering as much as your son and your brother.’

‘I hear you are, after all, good friends,’ Cersei said, making her heart pound furiously. Deep down, Cersei terrified her. ‘We have all seen you having pleasant exchanges and conversations, and he proved an excellent guide to the Dragon Pit, where I am sure he was able to display his conversational skills.’

‘Indeed, that sounds better than marrying a person with whom I have nothing in common, You know how it feels, I’m sure, to be rich and noble and play the game of lords and ladies which consists mainly in pretending to be happy,’ she said while staring at her in the eye. There was a pause. ‘I understand. I think this exchange leaves me more at ease and in better disposition to consider the offer. We have already sent ravens to my Council, to know their opinion. Thank you, Your Grace, lord Tywin.’

They rose and withdrew, and she thought she could breathe. She didn’t risk seeing Tyrion until a couple of days later. In a meeting with Hartick, they both arranged what was left to do: say yes. They thought of putting conditions, but the deal was pretty iron-clad, and the only condition would be that Tyrion would not be prince of Niska, but prince consort. It was the law of their land. And, for a moment, they thought they could be happy. However, there was one more person who had noticed something strange in Tyrion’s behaviour, and Cersei knew he would, so before marrying him off to such a powerful position, and even if it was to someone who inspired her such disgust, she wanted to be sure. She was pretty enough to make Tyrion satisfied, and she was satisfied enough with the negotiations. And somehow, this made her feel uneasy. Besides, those pleasant exchanges she had mentioned, with the defiant reply that had followed… made her go back to the amber pendant and the looks they had given to each other when she had mentioned it. That had been followed by the visit to the Dragon Pit, both of them alone, of which they had returned so happily. Could it be connected to that undone bed, or was she imagining things? Cersei would not leave anything to chance, which is why Petyr Baelish was received in private audience. Lord Baelish knew he needed to stay faithful to Cersei and Tywin in order to achieve his next goal, so close now: Harrenhal and Lady Lysa Arryn. So he complied, and told her that Tyrion had not been at the brothel, nor asked whores to his chambers, since princess (Y/N) had arrived. He also confirmed that he had sent one of his girls to check on him, entice him and regain the client, and he had turned her down, and she had, on his orders, followed him to see him go into the princess’ room.

That was all enough to start sending her own spies to confirm. A stolen kiss after dinner was sighted, and she put the machinery in motion to convince her father that Tyrion being only consort was unacceptable. His children would still be kings, indeed: but if they never had any (Tyrion’s fertility was not proved, after all, and he had been with enough whores to make it suspicious that he had no bastards) then he would never be a true king and his authority could be cast aside. Those were the arguments, and the whole marriage plans started falling apart. Hartick became colder and sterner: she understood, and Tyrion found out that his sister’s plan was not making him king instead of consort, but preventing the marriage.

‘She will find one excuse after the other to make this a political impossibility,’ he said, discussing in her chambers with Hartick. ‘She has now found out about us, Podrick has told me. I don’t think there is a way out. Not this time.’


	10. The Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Fear not! This might be farewell...or not. The story is not over yet!

‘Come with me anyway,’ she said, ‘and we shall get married when they are too far away to do anything about it. Come as my ambassador.’

‘I wish I could do that, but I can’t. Cersei will stop it now that she knows. She has already explained to me that she will send countless killers after you if I ever dream of leaving. It is not about the conditions any more. Right now there is a guard outside waiting to escort me back to my chambers. (Y/N), she will declare I have been taken prisoner and start a war with you. ’

‘Then I am afraid there is no reason for us to stay any longer,’ said Hartick, ‘it won’t make you any happier, and our work is done. The sooner, the better, or we risk more.’ He was right. There was a silence. ‘I am sorry, Your Grace. I will command to start preparations. With our small party, it should not take us longer than a day to leave. I… will leave you two alone.’

There was nothing they could do, but look at each other, holding hands.

‘I shall not forget you, Tyrion.’

‘Nor I forget you.’

‘Perhaps there will come a day when we will meet again.’

‘It will come. And the day will arrive in which my sister and father will be killed for their doings by people braver than us, and then no barrier, no vast sea, no wall will keep me from seeing you again, and no ship will be fast enough to bring me by your side again.’

They kissed passionately until there were violent knocks at the door.

‘Lord Tyrion, it is late,’ said a stern voice from outside. He kissed her hand and finally left.

The day that followed, as everything was prepared, (Y/N) walked the gardens to say her goodbyes to the good memories. The last place of the palace that she visited was the library. As she was going to walk out, lord Tyrion came in from the door at the other side of the room, followed closely by the guard. He stopped in his tracks and looked at her.

‘Your Majesty,’ he saluted.

‘Lord Tyrion.’ She looked at the guard, but he seemed stupid enough. ‘I never thanked you for the pendant, and for the book. It is such a pity that I should not leave you with a gift myself. Perhaps when you look on the void that your book has left, you shall remember me.’ She looked him in the eye as she said these words. ‘Goodbye, my lord.’

Tyrion went straight for the place where his book had been, finding a book bound in vellum and light blue cloth, with silver decorations. It was a book about beasts and birds from Niska, and the legends that came with them. He held it close to his heart and smelt its pages. They carried her scent.

The moment arrived when the princess, dressed like a queen but with the face of a heartbroken lady, was ready to leave. The Royal Family was present to say their goodbyes. When she said goodbye to Cersei, the face of the warrior within her came out.

‘One day your selfishness will kill you. And when that day comes, I will stand there, enjoying as one enjoys a theatre play, and smile.’

Queen Cersei did not utter a word, and her ship sailed away as Tyrion watched from the top of the walls. She looked at him from the stern of her white ship. It wouldn’t be very long until Tyrion heard the song that would become popular in all Westeros:

_She was brought by the waves,_

_And she had silver skin,_

_Her eyes sapphires of woe_

_And she bowed to no king._

_The lady who sailed_

_And the lady who danced,_

_The lady who tamed_

_And the lady who loved._

_She made a sail to leave_

_Her wedding dress was torn_

_She tied it with her veil_

_The Imp she loved, forlorn._

_The lady who sailed_

_And the lady who danced_

_The lady who tamed_

_And the lady who loved._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think will happen? Will they ever be together? How could they possibly reunite? Tell me in the comments!!!
> 
> Also, I appreciate any feedback! Thank you lovely readers


	11. The Wars To Come

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Jump in time to the last season! Because you don't want to read about these two while being apart...
> 
> This chapter is named after a track from the GoT soundtrack which was a bit of an inspiration for this part fo the story. The way the epic battle theme builds up was the perfect ambiance to the build-up moment that you will read here. You might want to listen to it!

Years had passed since then, thought Tyrion as he hummed the melody, looking at the dragons fly past and dance in the air over Dragonstone. He wondered what had become of her, and if she knew back then, when she was in the Dragon Pit, that there would be dragons again. He still carried her book with him. It was the one thing that he had managed to grab as he fled from King’s Landing. He had never stopped thinking of her. He wondered if she had. Perhaps she had married. Daenerys Targaryen was his queen now, but she would always be his Princess.

Soon, they marched to the North, without one dragon, with Cersei’s promise, and the Stark family reunited. Daenerys was mostly recognised as queen, and preparations for war were being made. And he thought of dying before his sister and never seeing his princess again, and brooded staring at the snow which she so liked. She had always wanted to visit the North.

Everything was almost ready for battle, and everyone was waiting for two arrivals: Cersei’s army, and the Dead. They lost hope for the first one with Jaime’s arrival. However, an hour or so later, when they were meeting and discussing battle plans and food supplies, Bran said something that made everyone turn their heads.

‘There is a queen coming. A queen with an army.’

‘Cersei?’ said Sansa, ‘Bran, is it Cersei?’

Bran, however, did not reply.

‘Bran, listen to me,’ said Jon. ‘Tell us what you see. Is Cersei coming?’

‘What other queen could it be?’ said Daenerys.

Half an hour would pass trying to convince Bran to further speak, and solving other matters, when a horn was heard outside. Someone was arriving. They all went to the battlements and gasped in awe. The dragons flew around a white bird, who strangely seemed to be communicating with them, almost dancing in the air with them. It was an owl. Under the flight of the dragons, an army of ten thousand soldiers marched towards Winterfell. A figure on horseback lead them, surrounded by other horsemen, twenty carts, and something that looked like a large white dog. As they got closer to Winterfell the white owl started circling the towers of Winterfell, and left the dragons to perch itself close to them on a battlement. Tyrion was stunned.

‘It can’t be,’ he said. He looked at Sansa, who was also shocked. She looked back at him.

‘Why?' asked Daenerys. 'Do you know them, Tyrion? Who are they?’

‘They are help.’

People were starting to stirr all around the castle now, the horn blowing again in warning. It was a state of war, and even if the approaching army was very obviously alive, soldiers still had to take their places as queen Daenerys walked along the wall towards the gates, to take position over them. She nodded to her general, Greyworm, and he swiftly went out to the rows and rows of Unsullied that surrounded the fortress, commanding them to take a defensive stance. In a few seconds, the area around Winterfell that they occupied was impregnable.

'Your majesty, time is of the essence. They bring more soldiers, and possibly supplies. We need to let them in at once.'

'Lord Tyrion, this is an unknown army coming to our gates, and we have no more friends. We will not grant them access just like that,' said Jon seriously.

'I told you, they are friends. I know them... I know her.'

'We will need to talk to them about their intentions before we can trust them. If they are from a house that we have somehow overlooked, we need to know if they are willing to pledge ther allegiance and bend the knee,' said Daenerys firmly.

'There cannot be any other house left...' Sir Jorah Mormont informed her, 'I don't think there is, Khaleesi.'

'You all need to trust me on this,' interjected Tyrion, so firmly, almost angrily, that everyone turned around to look at him, only a few metres away from their post over the gates. 'Bran was right. That is a queen, and one I knew well, very well, and lady Sansa should have by now recognised her, too.'

They all turned to Sansa. Her serious countenance softened very slightly as she looked at Tyrion in the eye.

'I understand your position, lord Tyrion, I know why you say that. but that was some years ago now. We don't know what has happened since then. We don't know where she stands. Her trades...' She looked around, almost sorry to say it, but determined to be mindful of their position. '...they relied on the Lannisters.'

At this, Daenerys turned around and kept walking, everyone following her. She assumed the central position, just one step back from the border of the wall, with Jon to her right and Sansa to her left. Bran stayed one more step behind, to Sansa's left. Sir Jorah Mormont stood in front of the queen, closer to the wall but positioned so that he would not block Daenerys or Jon's view. Missandei went to take her position next to Sir Jorah, but Daenerys motioned her to stay behind until it was safe. Sighing and trying to control the emotions that were stirring in his stomach since he had seen the white owl, Tyrion silently stood next to Jon. He almost felt tears fighting to come out of his eyes, but he stood still and watched as the black rider stopped close to the Unsullied. After a few minutes, they saw three horses separating themselves from the huge army and, along with the white creature that walked with them, start to slowly walk the passage flanked by Daenerys' soldiers towards the gate. Tyrion felt his heart thudding more and more violently as the crest that the horseman on the right carried became recognisable, as the armour of the one to the left became clearly outlined, and as the face of the one in the center, who walked a couple of steps behind, could be seen. By that time, he was certain everbody could hear his heart thumping against his chest.

Princess (Y/N) stopped her black horse at the gates of Winterfell as they all waited to receive her, all of them secretly not knowing what to think, what to say. She was dressed in black wool and brown leather, with a thick fur cape like the ones Jon and Sansa wore, only it was white fur, and wore riding breeches. A gigantic white bear with sharp, icy blue claws walked by her side like a dog. She looked up, sweeping with her eyes Starks, Targaryens, and Lannister alike, and Tyrion didn't know how big of an effort she was making to fix her eyes on queen Daenerys, and not him. However, just as she had that first time at the Red Keep, which felt ages ago, she stood strong and kept her dignified look straight. The rider to the left of the princess, a young knight carrying the blue crest speckled with stars around an owl carrying a book, stayed still as the rider to her right, a tall man in silver armour with piercing blue eyes and sharp cheekbones, which Tyrion had recognised as Hartick, looked up. Missandei took a step forward.

‘You are in the presence of Queen Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Lady of Dragonstone, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons’

Hartick bowed and said:

‘Before you stands Princess (Y/N) of House Truwen, the First of Her Name, Lady Regent of the Island of Niska, General Commander of the Ice Fleet, Captain of the Sapphire Shores, Lady of Silverstone, Beast Whisperer, and Bear Warrior.’

'What brings you to Winterfell in these turbulent times?, Mormont took over. Daenerys' dragons circled the Niskan army like vultures, threatening, waiting for their mother to give the signal if necessary.

‘I come in peace, queen Daenerys, to help defeat the Army of the Dead,' intervened Princess (Y/N). Tyrion's heart, tired of the gymnastics, proceeded to melt when her voice was heard.

Daenerys was still not sure how to react. At the sound of her name, she decided to take over as well. One queen to another.

‘We have never met, and yet, you become our ally. I heard of the island of Niska while in Meereen, but they never told me it was a kingdom with such military power. How come you sailed from so far away to fight alongside us?’ The princess glanced quickly at Tyrion. It was subtle, but spontaneous, she couldn't help it. Daenerys noticed. She turned to look at Tyrion to accuse her glance, and looked back at her. 'My Hands believes that you are here in good faith indeed. How can we know this?'

'Your Hand is, as his mind usually allows him to, very right. I trust lady Sansa may be able to see me as a friend, too.'

'The words of those who met you long ago could be but ghosts of the truth. I do not guide my rule by ghosts.'

'We know the army of the Dead is coming, your majesty. We have no wish of wasting anyone's time, and thus I shall give you not ghosts, but sustenance for the living. Behind me, twenty carts full to the brim with supplies await orders from the lady of Winterfell to relocate their contents in the pantries, barns and armories of the fortress. There are many soldiers to feed, including two dragons, a direwolf, and a bear, no less. Let us in, let our soldiers prepare, and we will be at your orders.'

After sending in two carts chosen at random by Greyworm, and having them checked, the gates were opened in no time, and as carts entered and were unloaded and soldiers were accomodated under the directions of one of the Princess' generals and Greyworm, the Niskan ruler could walk towards the group, who had come down from the battlements to receive her in the great hall. Instead of making her stand in front of the main table, they assumed the same positions as before, standing in the middle of the hall to receive her as a sign of respect. Once more, (Y/N) had to concentrate so her eyes wouldn't flicker to Tyrion. Daenerys smiled at her offering her hands.

‘I have heard and known of all your movements, Khaleesi; and all you have done, lord Snow. I am fully informed, mostly. It is an honour to meet you. Lady Sansa, after all the times I was sorry for not being able to help you, and take you away in my ship, my heart rejoices to see you back in your own home, and so grown in strength, wisdom, and beauty. No one has earned being Lady of Winterfell as much as you have, I am sure.’

‘Your majesty, I thank you. I am sure you would have helped me if you could have. Your kindness has not been forgotten.’

They both smiled, then Tyrion took a step towards her. Daenerys was about to say something, but the princess was quicker.

‘Lord Tyrion,’ she said seriously. ‘I am glad we meet again, and sorry it is not in better circumstances.’ Tyrion was not able to do much more than bowing in return. She was wearing his amber pendant. She then looked back at Sansa, Jon, and Daenerys. ‘There are pressing matters to attend. Lady Sansa, the carts are being unloaded now. They are for Winterfell to administrate. I bring ten thousand soldiers, infantry, archers, spearmen, some cavalry, finest in our island. They are fresh, for the voyage was swift and we had no shortage of food. We rested for a day on the shore. My ships are at the mouth of the Weeping Water, recovering from the trip and ready for orders. I trust your council as to how to position my troops for the battle to come.’

‘Right this way, Princess (Y/N),’ motioned Daenerys. They all met at the strategy room, caught up with each other, and positioned the armies with the Niskan addition according to Hartick’s directions.

‘The White Walkers have been heard of, back in Niska,’ (Y/N) told them. ‘There are legends… rumours... they have always been feared, even if they were a tale from overseas, from Westeros. Ice Bears are elemental beings, like the children of the forest. There has been at least one White Walker in Niska before, hundreds of years ago. It is not a threat only to Westeros, there is a connection. This is a threat to the whole world. But in Niska we knew about Daenerys Targaryen, and followed her progress, and we were ready to show our support to her. When we heard about the White Walkers, and what the Lannisters had done… Well, our trade deals were suspended due to their high debt, which our friends at Braavos had to solve for them. Cersei was extremely unpleasant and threatening throughout it, and what we knew of her lately did not help. We want to trade again, with a fair ruler. We want to eradicate the White Walkers. They can’t cross the sea for now, but that is just postponing the problem. We don’t know what they are capable of. We don’t know if they will ever learn to sail. They ride horses, after all. I knew lady Sansa, and we heard of the prowess of Jon Snow, so we came. We have chosen to help fight for the living, and help and support you. And if we can destroy Cersei in the process, so be it. She eventually killed two ambassadors we sent. Good men, and good friends.’

Thanks were given, and now Winterfell was better prepared, militarily and in supplies. The ships would stay for later if they had to be used. They were soon all new friends. Daenerys still wanted to clarify her presence, however. Another queen was sharing space with her, and she needed to know everything about her position.

‘So you have come here to fight by our side because you want to eradicate White Walkers, get back at the Lannisters, and… trade?’

‘If there is something to trade with by the end of all this, we will be glad to talk of it with Daenerys Targaryen, fair new ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, and our friendship will always be with the North.’

‘If I may, Your Majesty,’ Sansa intervened, and they all looked at her. ‘I believe there is a further alliance here, and we are not in a position to keep secrets from each other.’ (Y/N) knew what she was going to say. So did Tyrion. He looked down to the floor and she kept a straight face, allowing Sansa to continue. ‘When her majesty Princess (Y/N) was a visitor to King’s Landing, she was betrothed to Lord Tyrion to ensure both kingdoms were allies. The marriage was called off by queen Cersei and Joffrey, and it was never clear why. But it was said that both of you really wanted to marry.’

There was a silence as all eyes turned to her now, puzzled, expectant. Before she could figure out how to reply, and before Hartick said anything, Tyrion’s voice was heard.

‘It is true.’ All eyes in the room went to him this time, and he had raised his gaze and looked back at all of them. ‘The marriage offer was withdrawn without my consent through my sister’s manipulation and with the sole purpose of making me miserable. And it made for a wonderful song.’ He added this last sentence raising his eyebrows, trying to take the weight off his declaration, which felt like a stone in his stomach.

‘Lord Tyrion did not want to marry me for political reasons, but for me.’ (Y/N) intervened, ‘It is true, lady Sansa. As per usual, we fail to grasp your great intelligence and observation, and underestimate you. I also wanted to marry Lord Tyrion, but Cersei’s tricks were too threatening to Niska’s political order and we had to refuse her conditions, calling off the marriage. Lady Sansa is right. There is a further alliance that has brought me here, and it does not lie with the Lannisters as a family, but with one, and only one of them. Queen Daenerys, you could not have chosen a better hand. And his extraordinary mind has brought him to the right side.’

The room was heavily silent with a mix of incredulity and pity, and the princess and Tyrion finally locked eyes for the first time since she had arrived. They could only look at each other, the room and the people around them melting away as she focused on his sad eyes, and he marveled at hers, wondering if there was still a glimpse of hope in them. But the room and its occupants had not melted away. Hartick remained quiet, his face not revealing a single emotion, analysing the room and the political consequences of each interaction, including that revelation. Arya, who had joined them appearing out of nowhere to discuss battle plans, looked at the two of them alternatively, and then at Sansa, who warned her with her eyes not to say anything. Sir Jorah Mormont's expression softened a little in understanding, his eyes subtly turning towards Daenerys, who looked at her Hand. She also felt a wave of admiration and understanding towards the young ruler, who had not taken threats and had called off a marriage she wanted, only to protect her kingdom from suffering consequences, perhaps even war. Greyworm didn't seem to care one single bit about this piece of information. His mind was only in the battle, and he kept staring at the map in front of them: he was a general, not a politician. Jon, in all honesty, had no idea of where to look, overwhelmed and actually feeling really awkward by the whole situation. After a few seconds, Daenerys stood up, making all of them stand up, and said to Princess (Y/N):

‘I know. And I think we are done for now, while you surely still have a great deal of things to say, only not to us. We will leave you to rest from your journey, and get ready for what comes.’ She said this sweetly and softly, and all, even Hartick eventually with a last glance, left the room, and for the first time in too long, she was alone with Tyrion again.


	12. The Night at Winterfell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ANGST.  
> I was actually nervous writing this, my stomach churning as if I was there at the strategy room. It's actually really windy and cold at the moment so kind of felt the vibe.  
> Hope you like it!

If their recognition had brought silence to the meeting, the departure of everyone else made it even thicker. The princess could feel the warmth of the fire that burnt in the hearth on her cheeks, the dust that fell from the wooden beams above them, the lump in her throat, and the weight in her stomach. However, the sting of Tyrion’s look was gone, and she saw that he was now looking at the floor. She breathed deep and tried to find the right words, hoping that Tyrion would find them first. He was better at that than anyone. But even Tyrion was struggling under the tension and sorrow that were mingling in the suffocating air of that room.

‘I like the beard,’ she said, feeling incredibly stupid and shallow. Her queenly outside was nothing, she thought, for the eyes that could see her soul, and she had just ruined it with a flirty, supposedly funny comment that was doing nothing to lighten the mood, but rather, making it worse. Was she being arrogant, to assume he still cared what she thought of his appearance?

He smiled, though, a very soft smile that showed how a little part of him was melting. He eventually managed to whisper something, his eyes fixed on his boots:

‘So you did know about the dragons.’

Her hopeful expression turned to one of confusion.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Back then, in the Dragon Pit. We talked about dragons and you asked me if there were any left. I always knew your look meant something else. You wanted to know if I knew about it.’

She smiled faintly.

‘Being politically subtle is something I have always struggled with. I am better at it now, so maybe I could fool you this time.’

‘You certainly fooled me by appearing like this. I would never have expected you.’

‘I came to help,’ she said with a poignant, hopeful tone.

‘Yes, I know. And the Seven know we need the help. I understand why at least queen Daenerys would be such an inspiration to come all this way only now.’

‘You sound bitter.’

He had been looking at the fire, at her chin, at her fine hair falling over her temple, but now he finally managed to look at her directly in the eyes.

‘I _have_ been bitter. For a long time. I don’t know the length to which you are informed, but my life hasn’t been easy of late. And before it turned difficult, it felt horrible anyways because I didn’t know what had become of you.’

‘I know what it has been like. I don’t know the extent of the rumours, and the integrity of the real story, but I know what you have been through. Do you think we wouldn’t send spies to King’s Landing, after all that happened? And especially when the treaty started falling apart…’

‘The treaty, of course. You needed to know about the treaty. You’ve met lord Varys. Are you sure all your information was not filtered through him?’

‘He respected us. He… sent me some ravens himself. He knew of us.’

‘You could have died at sea and never even reached your home, for all I knew.’

‘It was too dangerous to write to you.’

‘Was it? I hope you didn’t have to flee your kingdom in a basket.’

He knew it wasn’t his anger speaking, but his sorrow. He was not blaming her, he could not, but he had to somehow say out loud everything he’d been feeling since she had left. How the pain had gone from a raw wound to an ugly scar seared into his heart, more deforming than the one on his face. How that ugly scar kept the pain latent every day. She stayed silent, feeling guilty and sad, a swirling wave of emotions which quickly turned into anger. This was not the reunion she had imagined. She didn’t know how she had wanted it, but definitely not like this.

‘Would you have me abandon my people and run away with you?’

‘Obviously not.’

‘Would you have me send you ravens every day as the responsibilities over a shaken kingdom flooded my days? Daenerys is a good queen, I believe that, but even our island has been receiving refugees from her conquests, and mostly slave owners, too. Do you think that was easy to manage? That there were easy decisions to make? Do you think that my people were happy receiving slavers on our shores? Or that it was easy to explain to some former slaves who had found happiness in my kingdom, that you couldn’t just let the refugees die on the beach?’

‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘And I don’t blame you, but if you think this has only been a couple of hard years in Westeros, you are wrong, and you should know better. Hartick forbade me to write. He was trying to keep me safe. Our spies were already a considerable risk. Would you have me send for you and sacrifice ships to the pirates of the Iron Islands?’

‘I did not ask for that. I am sorry.’

‘I am sorry too. You did not deserve what your own people did to you.’

‘Well, the topic of what I deserve is certainly muddy waters,’ he frowned a little. ‘I killed my own father,’ he confessed tentatively.

‘So I heard. But he did deserve it.’

‘After… After I found my lover in his bed.’

She looked hurt, but she did not dare reclaim him anything. Why wouldn’t he have taken a lover? She could not be angry for that, but she couldn’t help feeling those words stab her heart.

‘I’m sorry.’ There was a silence. It was her turn now to look at the floor. ‘Did… did you love her?’ The silence that followed lasted only a couple of seconds, but they felt like an eternity.

‘No,’ he said firmly, before turning to a soft tone: ‘I killed her too.’ Her eyes widened a bit, and his sorrow welled up in her eyes in the form of tears, and he marvelled at the fact that, as usual, instead of being scared or disgusted with him, she was able to feel sorry, to understand his deepest feelings. ‘She was the one who betrayed me at the trial. She… she helped ease the pain. But she wasn’t…’ She nodded gently to make it clear she understood. They stayed silent, their feelings setting like the dust on the table between them. It made it awkward for them to get closer, and none of them knew if going round the table towards the other would be the right move.

‘I have missed you terribly,’ he said in a defeated tone, but the defeat gave him the courage to ask. ‘Have you?’

‘Yes. Yes, I have,’ she whispered. ‘And I…’

They were suddenly startled by the door busting open. A soldier looked at both of them apologetically, realising how carried away he had got opening the door like that.

‘Your… Your Majesty, you are needed by Lady Sansa at the courtyard. It’s about the supplies.’

‘Certainly,’ she said, walking towards the door. She held it firmly, gesturing for the soldier to let it go. ‘I’m following you, soldier,’ she said. The soldier took his leave hesitantly, and she stopped briefly before leaving the room. She turned to him:

‘Tyrion,’ she said softly. ‘I never married.’

With that, she left for the courtyard.

Her words flooded Tyrion’s heart with painful warmth, a poignant happiness that only reminded him of all the time together they had missed. Of all the happiness that meeting him had taken away from her. But she had waited for him to appear in her life again, and he couldn’t even start to imagine how similarly she felt while going down the stairs to the courtyard, her jaw clenched tight in sheer panic. So many things to attend to, all of them so close to death with every minute that passed, and all that heartache, better fit for peaceful times, attacking her with every beat.

Tyrion went on with his responsibilities, not sure of what to make of that reunion. Had the circumstances not been so grim, perhaps they would have been happier, they would have smiled more, and perhaps he could have kissed her. He saw her through a window as she was still in the courtyard, helping Lady Sansa manage all the supplies, clarifying matters with soldiers, talking to Hartick and Sir Jorah. He had never seen her in her military duties, and it was a wonder to see her next to the two men, and calling for Jon’s attention, as if she was one of them. In that sense, she was similar to Daenerys; while mighty male warriors towered over both of them, they never looked small. Their authority and bearing gave them a sense of importance, and their experience in battle allowed them be heard in such conversations where he knew that himself or Sansa, with all their wisdom, would have been overlooked. Even the strange Stark girl, Arya, whom they had seen prove a worthy opponent to none other than Brienne of Tarth, and who never seemed to be impressed, looked at her in admiration, closer to the way she looked at Brienne than the way she looked at Daenerys. Little Lyanna Mormont, who despite her iron countenance and firm resolutions always seemed to be climbing her way to a position of respect –she was, after all, a little girl, if a mature, brave one– was evidently reassured by the presence of another lady of authority who could not impose herself physically like lady Brienne could. Tyrion lost sight of her for another few hours, until he happened to pass by the armoury and saw her talking to one of the blacksmiths. She was having her fine sword sharpened, and was producing a couple of daggers as well to show to the artisan. He took a few steps towards her without thinking, and she turned her head to him.

‘Hello,’ she said without moving any further, daggers in her hands.

‘You are not… you are not actually going into battle, are you?’

‘Daenerys is riding her dragon. What kind of queen would I be, if I didn’t fight with my people after bringing them all this way? Certainly you would think less of me if I didn’t.’

‘Well, I thought… Captain of the Sapphire Shores and General Commander of the Ice Fleet was something that applied more to sea than anything else. Not… land battles.’ He felt stupid as he said it. Davos Seaworth was fighting, and a battle was a battle, if you knew how to fight; especially a battle in which they couldn’t spare any pair of capable hands.

‘Tyrion, you know royal women are trained in battle the same as men in my kingdom,’ she said with a side smile.

‘Forgive me. I only worry. I suppose it doesn’t feel good when I am not allowed to fight. Daenerys forbade it.’

‘She is wise to do so. Your battles take place in your mind. I imagine she said that is what she needed from you.’ Tyrion nodded. She pointed with her head to a corner where another man was preparing her bow and arrows. ‘I will be at the battlements, with the archers. After that, wherever it is needed.’ His grim expression softened her own. ‘Tyrion, you have been fighting all this time when the warriors restlessly managed to help you from strategy rooms. It is their time now to fight doing what they do best.’

‘I suppose you are right. Alas, it still feels emasculating,’ he said with a dramatic sigh, and she granted him, for the first time since she was there, a full smile. He made her laugh just like the old times, and for a minute, it felt like they were back at the palace sneaking around Cersei. ‘What… what will you be doing, before the battle?’ Her face went serious again, and she evaded his gaze.

‘I do not know. I… I have to go talk to my soldiers. Make sure everything is ready. I… I will see.’

‘Of course,’ said Tyrion, his heart thumping painfully, ‘I will leave you now to it. Goodbye, princess.’ He left before she could even reply, but her heart felt just as heavy as his.

* * *

Night was falling, and Winterfell became gradually silent as darkness slowly slithered into every corner, every room. Princess (Y/N) crossed the courtyard, silently pondering everything she had been feeling and seeing that day, the ice bear walking ceremoniously next to her. She saw lady Sansa sitting with lord Greyjoy, waiting. Just waiting. Night was falling and everyone was silently waiting. She hadn’t seen Arya in a while, and after speaking to Daenerys for a bit, they had said their goodbyes with a heartfelt thank you from her, and she had left somewhere else. Hartick was already stationed outside with the troops, and she felt that the cold had frozen her last tears and hollowed her soul, so she wondered into the halls of Winterfell, hardly bearing to hear her own footsteps on the grey stone.

All of the men, and lady Brienne, turned their heads and started to stand up as soon as they saw her enter the hall and approach the fireplace where they were sitting.

‘Oh, please,’ she protested. ‘It’s hardly the time for that now. Can a warrior rest and wait for the war with her fellow soldiers?’

They sat back down, some gently chuckling. Sir Jorah moved over as Podrick brought a chair for her, looking wary of the huge bear that sat on the floor next to her. Sir Davos dared ask her:

‘Will you be riding him to battle, Your Majesty?’ Tormund scoffed.

‘Big waste would that be then,’ he growled, ‘couldn’ put his paws to good use.’

The princess looked at Tormund with curiosity, smiling at him.

‘The man is right,’ she said, ‘ice bears are not built for riding, and I don’t think their pride would let them do it, anyway. They make much better companions when they can fight and use their ice claws.’ The bear growled gently, and many of them couldn’t help but flinch a little when he raised his enormous head, as if he knew they were talking about him, and rested it on the princess’ lap.

‘So it’s true. That ain’t no regular bear, then,’ said Tormund, ‘That _is_ an ice bear. An elemental being.’

‘Yes,’ she said.

‘Do go on, Your Majesty,’ said Jaime kindly, ‘it is the time for stories. Tormund here just told us a lovely one about being nursed by a giant that will surely stay in our minds for a long time.’

‘Ice bears have chosen few people before to be their companions, but two of those people were ancestors of mine. However, you do need to find them first, and it is them who must come to you. Last year, I was in the forest with my personal guard, investigating a series of attacks on deer that were unusual for the time of the year.’ She stroked the bear’s head lovingly. ‘This one appeared from a cave behind a frozen waterfall. What an entrance it was! We were terrified,’ she smiled. ‘But you don’t kill ice bears, as they are too respected and we fear the consequences. He approached so gently, too. Eventually when he got to us, he nuzzled on my forehead with this huge snout, and then got behind me, pushing me playfully. We didn’t understand, of course, but I had been chosen. The attacks were a way of getting me to go that deep in the forest. He kept pushing in the direction of the way back, but instead of letting us go, he just… came with me. We’ve been inseparable ever since. He doesn’t always do what I want, of course. He is not tamed; he is just a partner. But I would trust him with my life.’

All of them sat there in awe, especially Tormund, who was fascinated with the creature. After a while, Sir Davos spoke of leaving, but Tyrion stopped them asking for a song. They all were surprised with Podrick’s beautiful singing voice as he offered _Jenny of Oldstones_. They all felt the war looming over them as the song ended, and as soon as he finished, the princess could not help but ask him for another song.

‘You sing beautifully, Podrick. And that is a lovely song. Do you know more?’ He looked at her hesitantly, then at Tyrion.

‘If it pleases Your Majesty, I know a song that was written for you. If you’ll allow me, I will sing it for you.’

‘You did say it was a great song before, Tyrion,’ said the princess. Tyrion nodded and raised his cup to Podrick, who proceeded. The princess loved the song, if it made her secretly feel a little ridiculous. But Podrick’s voice and all the memories that the song brought her softened her heart. Her tears still felt frozen; but her heart at least didn’t. When Podrick was done, she thanked him, stood up and bid farewell to all the other.

‘I will go get ready. It shouldn’t be long now. Lord Tyrion, will you accompany me to the door?’

Tyrion followed her without hesitation, and she faced him in the dark foyer before heading to the walls. His heart rebelled again as he saw her lean towards him, her face a few inches from his. And then she kissed him, gently at first, but he cradled her face in his hands, asking for more, and the kiss slowly became a passionate one in which they finally poured all the longing, all the memories they had of each other, all the moments they had missed each other desperately, and all their renewed fears of not seeing each other again. When they finally parted, they smiled, and she hugged him tightly.

‘I hope this is not the last time I say goodbye to you,’ he whispered, caressing her hair.

‘I do,’ she replied, and moved her head back to look at him, resting her right hand on her cheek, ‘because if I come back, I shall never be separated from you again, and therefore never say goodbye. And if that is not the future I am coming back to after the battle, then I prefer to die, and let this be our last goodbye anyway.’

This time he kissed her desperately, until they heard a horn. It was time. With a sigh, she left.


	13. The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long time no see! I got a new job and life has been overall crazy, so I am sorry I left this hanging for a while. I was also worried about writing a battle. They can be hard to write and the end tends to be anticlimatic. We are also approaching a somewhat clumsily-written part of the series, so I feel that writing around it is harder.  
> Not a lot of conversation in this chapter, and I originally didn't intend to write about the whole battle, but rather skip it and go to the end, but I got carried away!

The princess had not seen many battles in her lifetime, and the few that she had witnessed had been at sea. An assault on a castle, however, and one of such magnitude, was an entirely different thing that few of them had seen. Even those who had, however, were everything but prepared for a fight against Death itself. In any case, they all agreed in that it was difficult to know if the hearts of those who fought and faced the horrors of war were heavier than those who, like Tyrion, would be forced to wait locked up in the deepest part of the castle, hoping, waiting, and trying to interpret whether the sounds that reached them meant victory or death. For they all knew very well that tonight there would be no defeat if the enemy prevailed: only death. The princess' first touch with reality was watching the face of Sir Jorah as he came back from the first cavalry charge against the army of the dead. Inexperienced as she was, she had seen the faces of the bravest warriors before, after, and during battle, and the look that the tough warrior had in his eyes made her realise the prospects looked grim. Sir Jorah had seen whole regimes fall at the feet of his queen; he had seen humiliation and the loss of his family; he had seen dragons been born and destroy whole cities and armies; he had seen people on crosses by the hundreds. His eyes, which used to be shiny and piercing blue, came back from the charge hollow. The princess had seen in Jon's eyes, in Daenerys', in Greyworm's, the secret fear that only leaders shared with a look, hiding it from the rest of the troops as to not demoralise them any further. She was sure that same fear was in their eyes now, while they waited in their positions like her.

It wasn't long before the scene was absolute chaos of fire and blizzard, and she couldn't shoot her arrows fast enough. It didn't seem to matter. Every time she killed a creature, she felt like five more would appear. She could barely recognise anyone down in the field, except for a few people she knew. The dragons flew round and round, appearing every now and then among the clouds of snow to light everything on fire, which only made the whole scene scarier, for although their fire was priceless, she feared for the ones on their side that would burn as well. Close to her, she saw a small figure moving swiftly, and realised Arya Stark was now next to her shooting with her longbow. The ice bear beside her moved nervously, growling from time to time. The blood-curling screeches of the wights penetrated her mind, one after the other, and she tried to ignore them. She had an overview of the battle outside the gates from her position, and the once organised field full of squadrons of different colours and weapons was now a hell where most of the figures were rotting corpses that preyed upon the soldiers like ants upon crumbs. She desperately tried to keep focused and keep shooting good shots, but tears started running down her face as she saw so many of her soldiers die guarding off the gates. She had no idea where Hartick was. She had lost sight of most people she knew, and only the presence of Arya and of her bear companion stopped her from feeling completely alone among the horror. She took her last arrow, dipping it in oil and lighting it on the torch next to her, already eyeing her last prey. She aimed at some armoured wight that was running after Podrick and shot it right in the neck. Without stopping to look at the field any longer, she turned to Arya, who still had arrows, unsheathing her long obsidian daggers as she heard the gates open to allow the leftover soldiers to come in. The screeches of the dead were now muffled by screams of terror that came from soldiers who had seen thrice as many battles as she had. They bottlenecked the gates, but the unsullied protected them while the retreat was complete. She went down the battlements helping the soldiers who arrived get in their positions. Lyanna Mormont, who had never looked smaller, was screaming at the top of her lungs while she ordered her soldiers at the gate. She realised her shoulder hurt so much from shooting, the pain becoming noticeable as she got colder. She stomped her feet and moved her arms, and Arya called her. The trench was not lighting. She went back up, picked her bow next to her and took the arrows she was handing. Her shots were perfect; but the blizzard kept the arrows from lighting the trench. 

'Fuck,' she yelled, more scared than ever. If the wights reached the gate before they could close it, it would be a very bad turn. Arya looked at her briefly, surprised by the curse.

'Fuck indeed', she agreed.

Soon they saw the Red Woman coming out and lighting the fire as she had with the Dothraki arakhs. They breathed. However, as they had barely started evaluating the situation inside the fortress, the dead were already forming a bridge of corpses over the trench. Something in their gnarling sounds told the princess that this was when the battle was really going to start. The living corpses started climbing the walls incredibly fast, and she hadn't even processed it when she was sinking her dagger in the first wight. From there, it was all mud, blood, fire, and tears. She lost sight of Arya quickly, after she managed to save her from a couple of wights that were after her, but more followed and she ran away. She was about to go help her when another group of corpses swarmed over the battlement jumping directly over her. The ice bear had stayed on the stairs that went down the wall when she had started to go down, and he wasn’t back up at the battlements with her. A young man she had seen talking to the blacksmiths the day before fought alongside her with a huge hammer. The dragons kept passing by, and at some point, it didn't even startle her. She didn't even notice when they disappeared for a while among the clouds and into the blizzard; she was too busy killing, and killing, and killing, one at a time, sometimes two. It was now a matter of surviving each fight against each single creature in front of her. Her light weapons allowed her to be quick and flexible, and defend herself from two at a time if necessary, but she had to admit that the swing of the boy's hammer was pretty useful. There was nothing to hear, nothing to look at, but the enemy in front. By the time she managed to go down the battlements, there was a giant in the middle of the entrance to the fortress that she hadn't even seen ramming in. He was holding Lyanna Mormont, but she was only in time to see her stab the giant in the eye and watch both of them fall. She stopped next to her to check her pulse; she was dead. When she looked up, a stampede of dead bodies was coming through the busted gate directly at her. She managed to roll to the side, fighting off all the corpses that diverted towards her. A one-eyed man with a flaming sword, whom the princess didn't even have the time to wonder about, showed up to help her, but they were soon separated by the fight. The ice bear joined her, shaking off three wights that were over his back. He effectively threw most of their attackers to the ground, where they were easy targets for her daggers. Sometimes she saw everything in a slow motion, the breath of Death felt at the back of her neck with every movement, and yet somehow she was still pushing through. She saw Arya again, disappearing into the fortress. The Hound and the man with a flaming sword followed. Other times, it was all too fast and she couldn't find a moment to breathe, yet her body went on fighting while her mind tried to give up. It was at one of these moments that she found a group of her own soldiers. A glint of hope in their eyes and hers that was almost as good as a smile in that situation, and they were regrouped, and together they managed to push through a better position at one side of the main building and stayed there fighting. 

Soon, they saw the undead dragon come down from the sky, and terror took over their hearts, but they also saw Daenerys' dragons, and that was enough for them to keep on fighting. After a while they managed to retreat to a broad hallway that they could access through a castle gallery, and for a few minutes, they could breathe. 

'Lord Hartick,' she whispered to her soldiers, 'Have you seen him?'

They all shook their heads gravely. She realised they had lost two men in the fight since they had reunited, and she looked closely at the remaining ones. She recognised some of them; five knights, one infantry soldier, and one of her noblemen. The latter was an old friend; she had told Tyrion about him when they had met, and he had been her suitor some years ago. He was only a few years older than her. She looked at him.

'We are far from the Black Mountains, lord Jockard.' His bearded face and fierce eyes stared back reassuringly. 

'Not as long as you are with us, Your Majesty.'

She smiled faintly.

'I have no idea how we might win, I will admit that. But every fallen wight helps stop the army of the dead. I will not say I am sorry I brought you here. Not yet. If we are alive, so many of ours will be too. We do this for our friends.' She added a warrior's salute from their kingdom: 'May Death forget you.'

'May Death forget you,' they replied in a whisper.

Their faces gained in courage as the sounds of the wights approaching the hallway grew. Renovated, they charged.

'Do not leave me!', she pleaded as they fought. It was a small group and they managed to kill them all before scurrying out again.

What they found outside was horrifying, if such a thing was even possible at that situation. But things could get worse.

The dead were rising again.

Even the ones that had only died then. They huddled together as they saw the eyes of some of their own soldiers, clad in blue capes and with the princess' crest on their chests, open and shine with an icy blue light. Slowly they started rising their heads, and she saw Jon himself run towards the gate and enter the fortress, chased by the huge white dragon that spit blue fire.

The fight started again, as lord Jockard grabbed her by the arm and pulled to put her behind him, but it didn't matter. A swarm of corpses, fresh ones, skeletons, frozen bodies, surrounded them and clawed at them. Lord Jockard swung his axe left and right, the knights and the young infantry soldier fought endlessly around her, and she turned and turned killing one creature after the other. She didn't even have time to be surprised when her bear companion appeared again, but she let out a cry of victory as he positioned himself next to her. He beheaded a huge wight with a swing of his paw and acted as a defensive wall next to them. It didn't seem to make enough of a difference, though, and they had to retreat again as the undead dragon approached, chasing after Jon. Mud was sticking to her boots, making it difficult to move around, and her arms hurt like hell. She was sure she had at least three wounds, but she didn't know whether they were deep or not. She didn't even know if they were from a weapon at all. Her side hurt as well, and she was worried she'd sprain her ankle or twist her knee if he kept getting stuck in the mud. Close to her she heard one of her knights scream, but she couldn't turn to see if he had fallen. If she stopped for a second, she would die. She had lost sight of the huge white bear, which was only a sign of just how many undead were upon her now. Somehow among the mass of bones and rotten meat she saw Arya again. She sped by them looking reassured, so quick and swift that no one fighting even turned to her. All she knew now was that lord Jockard was still alive because he was fighting next to her and she could hear his screams with every blow he gave. This was it, she thought. It was dirty and stinky and scary and it didn't matter if her death brought any glory to her name after. There was no epic sounding of trumpets to announce her blows, there was no verse that could come to mind that could match the feeling of being where she was. This was death in battle and there wasn't anything glorious or great about it: she was one more corpse in the mountain around her. The last thing she would see would not be a champion like Jon pushing through the enemy, nor the light of the sun or the shine of her own armour. It would be mud and teeth and broken bones full of blood. The bear’s growls seemed to be fading. She wouldn't know if Tyrion survived. She didn't even know if he was still alive now. She didn't know where Hartick was. The mountain of dead bodies they were fighting on started to look more like a pit, and the high ground was no longer theirs as both moving and still corpses piled around them. She wondered if it was the time to stop fighting and accept the truth. The bodies and the blizzard and the defeat clouded her eyes and all she could see were blue flashes of blue lighting up one dead face after the other.

And then they all just fell.

She heard a huge growl and looked up as all the bodies around her just stopped moving and joined the others on the ground, the trench they were stuck in suddenly motionless. The undead dragon was also still on the floor now, in front of an amazed Jon that stared at it. He looked up and around him, and they made eye contact. She looked around to check on her men. One of the knights had indeed fallen, and was nowhere to be seen; lord Jockard and the other four knights, together with the soldier boy, were alive next to her. One of the knights collapsed on the ground, hurt. As the other men assisted him, she looked back at Jon. 

'D- Did you do that?', she asked pointing at the dragon faintly, wondering, at the same time, if killing the dragon would have caused such a general defeat anyway. Jon shook his head.

'He just... collapsed,' he said. She nodded at him and looked back at her men. Lord Jockard was miraculously unharmed, although he admitted he must certainly have bruises all over his body. The hurt knight had a bleeding shoulder, but was trying to walk. The others had wounds here and there, but were still coming down from the rush of the battle and couldn't even assess the gravity of them. She remembered the bear, and looked around, but he couldn’t see him. She stepped out of the trench of bodies, trying to climb it, and let out a cry.

'Madam, your hip!' cried lord Jockard.

She looked down and found a huge bloody stain on her right hip. It hurt so much now, she wondered how she hadn't even felt pain before. A rudimentary knife was sticking out of her right above the hip bone. She started feeling dizzy and dropped her daggers. She used the soldier's shoulder for support and breathed through the pain. Then her shoulder started hurting, too. 

'Igvard,' she addressed lord Jockard by his first name, 'remove my shoulder pad,' she breathed out, 'please.'

It only hurt more and more as she spoke, her mind coming down from the rush and her body growing cold. The lord removed her shoulder pad gently, although she made sounds of pain throughout the somewhat quick process. A clump of coagulated blood was stuck to the underside of the pad, and a little blood spurted out slowly from under the remaining crust on her shoulder. The cold relieved the pain a little, but her mind started to comprehend the state of her body and she had to fight to keep her eyes open. As she fell to her knees she saw Jon approaching them, his face still aghast and confused about the whole thing. The last thing she heard before seeing the ground get closer was lord Jockard's voice calling her.


End file.
